Mystery Ride

by Bonnie Bryant

  If Nickel isn’t found by Sunday’s light

  (The strong light of day, not morning and not night)

  I claim a forfeit, as is my right.

  You’ll owe your master, or D.C.,

  A whole day’s worth of misery.

  “That’s a big help,” Stevie murmured.

  Carole and Stevie read the paper again, and then read it a third time.

  “It definitely means something,” Stevie whispered. “I guess.”

  “I don’t have a clue, but it definitely is a clue,” said Carole with a giggle.

  “A major clue,” Stevie said.

  “Maybe we should show it to the other riders,” Carole said.

  “Carole!” Stevie said. “First you have us mucking out the stalls, and now you want to give away our clue. I know it’s important to be responsible, but let’s not go overboard.”

  “Sorry,” whispered Carole.

  From down the aisle came Max’s voice. “Riders who are done mucking can start tacking.”

  “We’re going to be late,” said Stevie.

  “What should we do?” said Lisa.

  “We have to leave the clue where we found it,” Carole said.

  Lisa knew this was true, so she put the poem back on the hook.

  “Maybe we should tell the others,” Carole whispered.

  Stevie rolled her eyes.

  From all around them came the sound of horses snorting as their riders began to tack them up.

  “We’ve got to go. Otherwise we’ll be the last out,” Stevie said.

  At that moment Stevie heard Starlight whinnying. Clearly the horse wanted to hit the trail.

  “I guess we’d better go,” Carole said.

  “That’s more like it,” Stevie said. “Let’s get a move on.” She and Carole hurried out of Nickel’s stall.

  Lisa remembered that she hadn’t had time to tell them about the mystery rider at the edge of the woods or the second piece of red yarn. Hurriedly Lisa finished cleaning Nickel’s stall and then went to saddle Prancer. This was all pretty confusing, she thought. Maybe MW stood for Mixed-up Weekend. Lisa lifted the saddle onto Prancer’s back and fastened the girth.

  “Lisa!” came Stevie’s voice from the door of Prancer’s stall.

  Lisa looked up and saw that Stevie’s hazel eyes were shining. “We’re having an emergency meeting of The Saddle Club right now!” Stevie said. “Meet us in Nickel’s stall immediately.”

  Two meetings of The Saddle Club in five minutes! It was all kind of nutty. Nonchalantly, so as not to attract attention, Lisa wandered back to Nickel’s stall.

  When she got there, Carole and Stevie were waiting.

  “I’ve made a decision!” Stevie said dramatically. “I’ve thought things through and I know what The Saddle Club has to do.”

  Carole grinned. Stevie was great at figuring out reasons for doing exactly what she wanted. Undoubtedly Stevie was about to come across with the world’s most ingenious reason for not telling about the note.

  “It’s not fair to the younger kids to hide the note,” Stevie said. “They deserve a chance at solving the mystery. And if they haven’t seen the note, what chance have they got?”

  “I agree one hundred percent,” said Carole. “But there is one drawback. If we tell them, Veronica will find out.”

  “That’s just it,” Stevie said triumphantly. “I want Veronica to find out. I don’t want to beat her the easy way. I want her to know everything. Only then can we prove how truly dumb she is.”

  “Hmmm,” Carole said. “I think this is a truly Stevian move. Now Veronica will have no excuses.”

  “That’s it,” Stevie said. “She will have to admit that The Saddle Club has brawn and brains.”

  “Good thinking,” Carole said. But then she suddenly got cold feet. It was nice to be fair, but who wanted to be fair to Veronica?

  “Maybe we should give this more thought,” Carole said.

  “After all, we found it,” Lisa said.

  “No,” said Stevie heroically. “We are going to share this note with everyone. Anything less would be unworthy of The Saddle Club.”

  “It isn’t easy being selfless,” said Carole with a giggle.

  “Anyway, we don’t have to tell them about the bar-heeled shoe prints,” said Stevie.

  “This is true,” Carole said.

  “We don’t have to tell them about this, either,” said Lisa, pointing out the piece of red yarn. Chances were that when the other riders heard about the poem, they’d get so excited they’d forget to look for other clues.

  The Saddle Club left Nickel’s stall. As they walked down the aisle, they saw that most of the riders were nearly finished tacking up. From the snorts and pawing of the horses it was clear that they were ready to go.

  Max was standing outside the tack room enjoying the hum of riders getting ready.

  “Max, you’ve got to stop everything immediately!” said Stevie.

  Max looked mildly skeptical. Stevie was always making pronouncements like this.

  “We’ve found a major clue in Nickel’s stall,” Stevie said. “Everyone has to know.”

  “Call everyone,” Lisa said.

  “You really think I should?” Max said with a grin. “Everyone’s eager to hit the trail.”

  “This is a must!” Stevie said grandly.

  “Okay, if I have to,” Max said. “Riders, assemble outside Nickel’s stall.”

  There was a hush, then a stampede, as everyone rushed to see what was going on.

  “I guess The Saddle Club had better explain,” Max said.

  “Look what we’ve found,” said Lisa, pointing to the sheet of paper in Nickel’s stall. “It seems to be a sort of ransom note.”

  Max beamed and said, “You’re kidding me.”

  “No,” Lisa said. “It’s a totally weird note, but it has to mean something.”

  “You’re just trying to keep the really good detectives off the trail,” said Veronica scornfully.

  “So ignore it,” said Stevie furiously.

  “No,” Max said. “The Saddle Club is doing something it doesn’t have to. It’s giving everyone an equal chance. I want you all to come to my office to listen to the contents of the note.”

  On the way to the office Max said to Lisa, “Since you’re an experienced actress, I want you to read it.”

  WITH RIDERS SITTING on the floor staring up at her, Lisa lifted the paper and read the poem aloud.

  When she was done, Lisa looked up. The riders were staring at her with open mouths.

  “What’s a D.C.?” Amie finally asked.

  “The director of the Pony Club, silly,” said Jackie. “In other words, Max.”

  “I knew that,” said Amie, raising her chin. “I just wanted to see if you knew.”

  “That’s the worst poem I ever heard,” Veronica said.

  “It is not,” said Lisa indignantly. Having read the poem several times, she was starting to like it.

  “Let me see that thing,” said Veronica, standing up impatiently. Veronica’s riding hat was perched on top of her stiff hair, making her look like a pinhead. This hadn’t stopped her from trying to look gorgeous. She was wearing a new melton hunt jacket and a canary-yellow vest.

  “It’s time for a real detective to get to work,” Veronica said as she took the note, spreading it out on Max’s desk so that everyone could see it. “It’s typed,” she said, “so we can’t analyze the handwriting.”

  “As if you’re a handwriting analyst.” A.J. smirked.

  “For your information, I know quite a bit about handwriting analysis,” said Veronica airily. She tossed her head, something she often did, but this time her hair was motionless and her riding hat jiggled.

  “We could call the police and get them to dust it for fingerprints,” said May.

  “After The Saddle Club has smeared their greasy fingerprints all over it?” said Veronica. “I don’t think so. In any case, what crime has been committed? S
omeone has written a perfectly dreadful poem, but that’s not illegal.”

  At this, Max’s expression became rather stiff, Stevie noticed.

  “The real meaning is in the poem,” Veronica said. “Some of us understand it, but some of us are too dim.”

  “Time to hit the trail,” Max said, stepping forward. “Let the hunt begin.”

  As the riders broke into groups Max winked at Stevie, Carole, and Lisa. They could tell he was pleased that they’d shared their discovery of the note.

  Jessica, Jackie, and Amie were giggling in the corner, saying something about red yarn.

  “They found red yarn, too,” said Lisa. “There seems to be a lot of it around.”

  “But what does it mean?” said Carole. “Yesterday we found yarn on the door of Nickel’s stall. Today we found more. Amie, Jackie, and Jessica have found some, too. Where is all this yarn coming from?”

  “Somewhere, somebody has part of a red sweater,” Stevie said.

  “The fact that we found red yarn yesterday and today means the thief has been here twice,” Carole said.

  “Why would the thief visit an empty stall?” Lisa asked.

  “To leave the ransom note,” said Stevie.

  “Yes!” said Carole. “Let’s take another look at that note.”

  They went over it line by line. “ ‘A different type of tree.’ What’s that?” said Stevie.

  “ ‘Water twice and hills to climb,’ ” said Lisa. “The woods are full of hills and streams.”

  Carole groaned. “But which hills and streams?”

  “It doesn’t say anything about barred shoes,” said Lisa sadly.

  “It only makes the mystery more complicated,” said Stevie, putting the note back on Max’s desk. “Come on. We’d better saddle up. Everyone else is getting ready to go.”

  “Maybe the fresh air will clear our heads,” Lisa said.

  “Maybe,” Stevie said doubtfully.

  The tack room was empty because the other riders had already gotten their saddles.

  “I’m looking forward to a nice brisk trot,” said Lisa.

  “Too bad we can’t gallop,” said Carole. “That would really clear our minds.”

  The gasp from Stevie was low, but filled with horror. “My saddle is gone.”

  THEY STARED AT the empty rack where the saddle had been.

  “It’s a trick,” Stevie said. “And it’s not funny.”

  “Why would it be a trick?” Carole asked.

  “It’s Max,” Stevie said. “He must have sneaked in during breakfast.”

  “Would Max do that?” Lisa asked.

  “Sure he would,” Stevie said. “It’s part of the mystery.”

  But Stevie wasn’t as confident as she sounded. Would Max really steal her saddle as part of an MW? Somehow she didn’t think he would do something that made her feel so terrible.

  Then Stevie remembered May’s tear-stained face the day the MW began. She’d been so sure May’s story about her saddle being stolen was part of the game. But later Judy Barker had told the Pony Clubbers that there was a tack thief on the loose—and now Stevie’s saddle was missing.

  Stevie shivered and shook her head, dismissing the terrible thought.

  “If it’s not Max, maybe it’s A.J.,” Stevie said. “I bet this is his idea of a joke.”

  “A.J. can be a little strange sometimes, but I can’t see him doing anything this mean,” Carole said.

  “Well, who did, then?” asked Stevie.

  Lisa and Carole shrugged helplessly.

  “We’d better tell Max,” Carole said. “He needs to know.”

  “If he doesn’t already,” Stevie said glumly. The Saddle Club headed off to look for him. They found Max outside, watching Mystery Teams ride off in all directions.

  “My saddle’s gone,” Stevie said miserably.

  Max’s blue eyes flashed. “I’m calling the police,” he said. “Officer Kent will want to know.” Max was silent for a minute, then he spoke up again. “Stevie, find yourself another saddle and hit the trail. I don’t want your weekend ruined.” He spun on his heel and headed briskly toward his office.

  “Come on,” Lisa said. “Let’s go.” They ran back to the tack room.

  Carole grabbed Starlight’s saddle from its rack and his bridle from its hook. Lisa got Prancer’s tack. Stevie hesitated and then took Topside’s saddle. Topside wasn’t being ridden on the Mystery Weekend, so he wouldn’t need it.

  Stevie took the saddle to Belle’s stall. It was too broad for the mare, so she returned to the tack room for an extra saddle pad. Stevie finished saddling Belle and set off to meet Lisa and Carole at the good-luck horseshoe.

  “If we ever needed luck, we need it today,” Lisa said.

  Stevie touched the horseshoe twice.

  “How is Topside’s saddle on Belle?” Lisa asked.

  “Belle’s not comfortable,” Stevie said. “She knows it’s the wrong saddle.” In fact, Belle was twitching her coat and looking cross.

  Carole gave Stevie a sympathetic look. “There’s nothing worse than putting the wrong saddle on a horse.”

  “It’s like wearing someone else’s riding boots,” Stevie said.

  Carole looked down at her own riding boots, which were scuffed and scarred. Somehow she never had to worry about anyone else wearing her boots.

  “Hey,” Carole said, staring at the ground next to her foot. “Look at that.”

  Beside the doorway was the fresh print of a bar-heeled shoe.

  Stevie jumped down from Belle to look. She touched the rim. “It’s fresh,” she said. “It’s wet.” She looked toward the woods. “Max’s thief must have just been here.” She climbed back on Belle. “Let’s go.”

  “I forgot to tell you,” Lisa said, clapping her hand to her forehead. “There’s been so much going on. When I was out here before breakfast I saw someone riding in the mist. Over there.” She pointed to the two maple trees where the rider had disappeared. “It was someone on a gray horse. The horse was small. It could have been a large pony. For all I know, it could have been Nickel.”

  “He would have gone into the woods at the first available spot,” said Carole.

  “There!” Stevie said, pointing to a wooden coop jump.

  “Stevie!” Carole said. “You know that pasture. It has barbed wire all around it. The people who own the pasture don’t want riders to use it.”

  Stevie walked Belle over to the jump. Sure enough, the pasture was totally fenced in.

  “Look at this,” said Lisa with a grin.

  Stevie wondered how Lisa could be smiling at a time like this. But when she looked down she saw that there was a set of bar-heeled prints leading to the jump. And then another set leading away on the same side.

  “The thief jumped in, saw he was stuck, and jumped back out,” Lisa said. “This gives us catch-up time. It means he can’t be far ahead.”

  “Great,” said Stevie grimly. “When we catch him, that prankster is going to get a piece of my mind.”

  “Look,” Carole said. The dark bar-heeled prints led toward a trail that edged the woods.

  “Excellent,” said Lisa, pressing her knees to Prancer’s flanks, encouraging her to trot.

  Carole shook her shoulders, getting rid of the cricks that came from sleeping on the floor of the loft.

  The trail ran into the forest.

  “This is where we heard the hoofbeats on Thursday,” Lisa pointed out. “We were almost back to the barn when we heard those clops—the ones Stevie thought belonged to a jackrabbit.”

  Stevie wondered if the mysterious hoofbeats had anything to do with the bar-heeled shoe prints they were following. But they couldn’t have, she thought, because the girls had heard the hoofbeats on Thursday, and the Mystery Weekend hadn’t begun yet. A spiderweb caught Stevie across the forehead, and she peeled it loose.

  Truly, Stevie thought, it wasn’t easy to follow hoofprints and trot at the same time. It was kind of like a competition event
. Stevie leaned against Belle’s neck to avoid a low-hanging branch. “Branch,” she yelled as she pushed it out of her way.

  Lisa saw the branch bob back in front of her. If she didn’t do something, it would knock her off Prancer’s back. “Whoa!” she yelled. She pulled on the reins and sank her weight into her heels. This was what Max called an emergency stop.

  Prancer dug in her hooves and came to a halt.

  “Yikes,” yelled Carole, pulling up Starlight behind her.

  “It’s like a freeway pileup,” said Lisa.

  “It’s a good thing I just had Starlight’s brakes tuned,” Carole said with a laugh.

  “You’re telling me,” said Lisa, whose heart was still pounding. She looked at the threatening branch. It was naked except for a spot of red at the tip. Something about that red was familiar. Lisa reached up and pulled the branch toward her. It was a piece of red yarn. “Look!” She held it high so that Stevie and Carole could see, and then she put it back on the branch.

  “We know we’re on the right trail now,” said Lisa.

  Stevie turned back to the path. “You trot, I’ll look for clues,” she said to Belle. “Soon we’ll have that saddle back. I miss it just as much as you do.”

  There were bar prints around the edge of a puddle. Then prints crushed into moist grass. Then a wet bar print on a fallen pale maple leaf.

  “I saw two more pieces of yarn,” Lisa called.

  There was a patch of gray sky ahead, and suddenly Stevie and Belle were trotting across an upland meadow filled with wiry silver grass. Stevie could feel Belle wanting to gallop, but Max had forbidden it.

  At the other side of the meadow was a rider on a small gray horse. The rider was a blur of blue.

  “There,” Stevie called back to Lisa and Carole. “On the other side of the field.”

  When Stevie looked ahead again, the gray horse was jumping a fallen log. And then horse and rider disappeared.

  “Let’s go,” Stevie said. She pressed her knees against the mare’s sides and put her heels down. Belle took off in a swift canter, her hooves pounding the ground. Stevie knew they’d catch the thief soon, because there was no way an ordinary horse could outrun Belle.

  Stevie could see the log the gray horse had jumped. She urged Belle toward it. Belle’s stride lengthened and lightened.