Phantom Horse

by Bonnie Bryant

  Troy was shaking his head grimly. “That darn dog,” he muttered. He glanced at the girls. “Come on,” he said, his voice completely neutral. “If you want to get your missing stuff back, I have a pretty good idea where it might be.”

  The girls followed as the groom headed outside. He led them to a row of bushes near the main stable entrance and knelt down. Plunging his hand into the foliage, Troy fished around for a moment and then dragged a sleepy, startled-looking Princess from under the largest bush.

  “Now let’s see what we find,” he said. Reaching under the bush again, Troy began pulling things out and dumping them at the girls’ feet. “Here’s an old sock … and a currycomb … and a silver barrette … and a riding crop … and a pair of sunglasses … and a gold bracelet … and a book … and a little hat—”

  “Phil’s yarmulke!” Stevie cried, pouncing on it. She brushed it off, happy to see that it seemed completely undamaged.

  “Thank goodness,” Lisa said. “He’ll be so happy to get it back.”

  Stevie nodded. “And just in the nick of time, too.”

  “Last and least, here’s what looks like a glove,” Troy said, dropping one more item on the pile before standing up. “Looks like that was Princess’s favorite—it’s a little chewed.”

  That was an understatement. Most of the other items seemed undamaged, but Veronica’s elegant leather glove was hardly recognizable anymore. The Saddle Club grinned, trying not to giggle.

  The girls stopped smiling when they turned and looked at Troy, who was scolding Princess gently. It was just dawning on them that they hadn’t exactly been fair to the young groom.

  Lisa spoke for all of them. “Thanks for helping us find this stuff, Troy,” she said. “Urn, we couldn’t figure out where it was all disappearing to. It was starting to seem like we had a thief right here at Pine Hollow.”

  “And you thought it just might be me,” Troy said, not looking at any of the girls. He was stroking Princess’s ears.

  “Of course we didn’t,” Stevie protested. The words rang false even to her own ears.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Troy replied with a shrug. “It’s not the first time. Old Princess here is a born kleptomaniac. Or maybe pack rat is a better term. Every once in a while she decides she’s in a collecting mood, and she starts picking up anything and everything she notices lying around and taking it home with her. You can imagine how many times that little habit has gotten both of us in hot water.”

  The girls could imagine it very well. If things started disappearing when Troy was around, they guessed that they wouldn’t be the only ones who might jump to conclusions because of the strange way he sometimes acted.

  “We’re really sorry, Troy,” Carole said sincerely. “I hope there are no hard feelings or anything.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Troy said again. “You girls aren’t the first to think the worst of me. A lot of people around here don’t like the way I look, my clothes or the way I wear my hair. I’m used to it by now. And it doesn’t bother me. I know who I am.” He gave Princess one last pat and stood up. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some horses to look after. Oh, but first, why don’t you take this, too.” He pulled Adam’s pen out of his pocket and handed it to Lisa. “I was going to take it to Mrs. Reg’s office so she could try to find the owner. But if you know whose it is you can just go ahead and return it.” He frowned at his dog. “Come on, girl. You’d better stick with me. You’ve caused enough trouble for today.” He whistled to Princess, who fell in at his heels. Man and dog walked off into the stable building without a backward glance at the girls.

  Carole looked from the pile of things on the ground to her friends. “I guess we messed up this time, huh?” she said softly.

  Lisa nodded, looking guilty. “Big-time.”

  “This must be what my parents mean about not judging by appearances,” Stevie said. She sighed. “So the Pine Hollow Pilferer turned out to be a dog. At least we got everyone’s stuff back.” She knelt and started to gather the things.

  “I wonder if there’s anything we can do to make it up to Troy,” Carole said, bending down to help.

  Lisa thought about that for a moment. “It doesn’t seem like it,” she replied at last. “What’s done is done. We can’t take back our suspicions. But we can promise ourselves we won’t be so quick to jump to conclusions next time. Or to assume someone’s guilty until proven innocent rather than the other way around.”

  Stevie and Carole nodded. Then Stevie glanced at her watch. “Oops!” she said. “We’d better get inside and get changed. My parents will be here to pick us up in forty-five minutes. First dibs on the shower!”

  * * *

  EXACTLY FORTY-FIVE MINUTES later the three members of The Saddle Club were dressed in their best clothes and climbing into the Lakes’ station wagon. During the short ride to the synagogue, the girls told Stevie’s parents about unmasking the Pine Hollow Pilferer.

  At the synagogue, all anyone could talk about was the bar mitzvah. There were lots of cars in the parking lot, and groups of people were milling around outside the building, which was long and low and made of whitewashed brick.

  “It doesn’t look the way I expected,” Carole commented. “I guess I thought it would look more like a church.”

  Lisa nodded. “Me too. But Phil told me there aren’t any rules at all about what Jewish synagogues should look like, the way there are about churches and mosques and things in other religions.”

  Stevie straightened the hem of her skirt as her father pulled the station wagon into one of the few remaining parking places. Suddenly she felt nervous. She was sure that part of the feeling was sympathetic nervousness on Phil’s behalf. He had been preparing for this day for a long time, and he wanted to do well and make his family proud. But Stevie thought part of the nervousness might also be for herself. Now that Phil was about to become an adult, would he still feel the same way about things like horses, friends, fun—and her?

  The Saddle Club and Stevie’s parents headed inside, pausing occasionally to greet someone they knew. As they reached the wide double doors, Stevie was surprised by one familiar face in particular.

  “Isn’t that Shannon Brice over there?” she whispered to her friends.

  “It is,” Lisa confirmed. “I wonder what she’s doing here?”

  “Let’s go find out,” Stevie said. Promising her parents that the girls would meet them inside, she led Carole and Lisa over to where Shannon was standing. Mr. and Mrs. Brice, whom Stevie recognized from school events, were nearby.

  Shannon looked surprised to see them at first. But then her face relaxed into a smile. “Oh, you’re here to see Phil, right?”

  “That’s right,” Stevie said. “Do you know Phil?”

  “Sure,” Shannon replied. “We’re in the same Hebrew class. And our families have both gone to this synagogue for ages.”

  Stevie was surprised. She hadn’t even known that Shannon was Jewish, let alone that she and Phil knew each other. Just then she noticed that Shannon was wearing the gold bangle bracelet she had thought was Betsy’s. This time it was Stevie’s face that turned red.

  Carole noticed her friend’s discomfort and came to the rescue. “Maybe you could fill us in on what to do, Shannon,” she suggested. “None of us has ever been to a Jewish synagogue before, let alone to a bar mitzvah.”

  “Okay,” Shannon agreed. She glanced at the three girls shyly, beginning to blush a little. “If you want, maybe we could even sit together.”

  “That would be great,” Lisa said. She looked at Stevie. “I’m sure your parents won’t mind, right?”

  Stevie nodded. She scanned the people around them. “By the way, do you know if Phil is already inside?” she asked Shannon. “I have something I was hoping to give him before the ceremony.”

  “I saw him go in a while ago,” Shannon said.

  Stevie frowned, disappointed. The recovered yarmulke was tucked carefully inside her purse. But now it seem
ed she’d been too late in getting it back after all.

  Shannon noticed her expression. “Don’t worry,” she said with a shrug. “You can give it to him inside.”

  “Is that allowed?” Carole asked, surprised.

  “Sure. Come on,” Shannon said. She led them through the doors and into the main part of the synagogue. The walls were hung with velvet curtains embroidered with silver thread. Dark wood shone everywhere, reflecting the sheen of polished brass and silver. The girls thought it looked as beautiful as the inside of a church, but in a slightly different way.

  One way that it was different was the noise and activity. Instead of the hushed whispers of a church, the large room rang with happy voices and laughter. Many people were already seated, but others were moving around, greeting friends and relatives.

  “There are the Marstens,” Shannon said, pointing toward the front of the room.

  Stevie looked and saw Phil, looking even more handsome than usual in his dark suit. She noticed that he was wearing a plain black yarmulke. She also noticed that Mr. Marsten was wearing one as well.

  “Why is Phil’s dad wearing a yarmulke?” she asked Shannon as the girls headed up the aisle toward the Marstens’ seats. “He’s not Jewish.”

  “It’s a sign of respect for all the men to wear one inside the synagogue, whether they’re Jewish or not,” Shannon told them. “They hand them out at the door to anybody who doesn’t have his own.”

  Phil and his family looked up and smiled when they saw the girls.

  “You girls all look wonderful,” Phil’s mother said. “I’m so glad you could come. Shannon, please tell your mother I said hello.”

  “I’m glad you guys made it, too,” Phil added. “But really, Stevie, couldn’t you even manage to change out of your riding boots for the occasion?”

  Stevie glanced down at her feet, panicked. In all the excitement of solving the mystery, had she actually forgotten …? But when she saw her clean blue shoes, her look of panic turned to a look of relief.

  “Gotcha,” Phil said, with a grin and a wink. Everyone laughed, even Stevie.

  Suddenly Stevie remembered what was in her purse. She pulled out the yarmulke and handed it to Phil.

  His eyes widened in surprise. “How did you get it back?” Without waiting for an answer, he turned to his aunt and uncle, who were sitting farther down the same row. “Hey, look at this!” he exclaimed. Within moments he had replaced the plain black skullcap with the beautifully embroidered one.

  “That looks much better,” Stevie told him with satisfaction. “Just wait until you hear about how we got it back!”

  “If I know The Saddle Club, I bet it’s an amazing story,” Phil said as a group of people came toward him, smiles on their faces. “I can’t wait to hear all about it later.”

  Stevie took the hint. “I guess we’d better go sit down now,” she said, stepping aside so that the newcomers could congratulate Phil.

  “Are you going to sit with Shannon?” Phil’s sister Barbara asked Stevie. “She’s having her own bat mitzvah in a few months, so she can fill you in on anything you don’t understand.”

  “We are,” Carole said. “See you later.” The girls waved to Barbara and the rest of the Marstens as they left in search of seats.

  As the four girls headed back up the aisle, Lisa spotted a red-haired boy waving frantically at them from the other side of the room. “Look, it’s A.J.,” she told her friends.

  “Let’s go sit with him,” Stevie said eagerly. The girls hurried over. On the way they passed both Stevie’s parents and Shannon’s and told them where they would be sitting. After The Saddle Club enthusiastically greeted Phil’s friend, Stevie introduced Shannon. “She’s going to tell us what’s going on,” she told A.J.

  “Thank goodness,” A.J. said, straightening his yarmulke, which kept threatening to slide off the back of his head. “As many times as Phil tries to tell me, I still can’t tell a Torah from a haftarah.” As he reached to shake Shannon’s hand, her bracelet slid out from beneath her sleeve. “Hey, nice bracelet,” A.J. commented politely. Unlike most boys, A.J. actually noticed what people wore.

  “Thanks,” Shannon said, blushing. “Um, my boyfriend gave it to me.”

  Stevie, Lisa, and Carole exchanged quick glances. They had the funniest feeling they had just figured out why Shannon was so mysterious about the bracelet. She was so shy that she probably didn’t want anyone from Pine Hollow to know it had been a gift from Joe.

  Having had one of her questions about Shannon answered, Stevie couldn’t resist trying to find out the answer to the other. “So Shannon,” she said, trying to sound casual, “I noticed you’ve missed a lot of school lately. Have you been sick?”

  “No,” Shannon said. She seemed to be getting a little less nervous about talking to The Saddle Club. “I haven’t really missed that much time. Just a few days for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur in September, and then a week when my family took a trip to Israel last month. The trip was sort of an early bat mitzvah gift for me, since I’d never been there.”

  “Oh,” Stevie said. She knew that Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur were important Jewish holidays. Phil always missed school for them, too. Now that she knew the reasons behind what she had thought was Shannon’s suspicious behavior, Stevie felt a little bad about suspecting her of being a thief. But she didn’t have much time to think about it, because the service was starting.

  Shannon explained everything that was going on, whispering in Stevie’s ear so that she could pass it down to the others. First the cantor stepped forward to lead the opening prayers. As the service continued, The Saddle Club rose, sat, and bowed according to Shannon’s instructions.

  Stevie kept an eye on Phil, who was still sitting between his parents. “When does his part start?” she whispered to Shannon.

  “Soon,” Shannon whispered back. “It’s time for the beginning of the Torah service now.”

  The girls watched as the people at the front of the room pushed back a curtain that hid a large wooden cabinet. Opening the cabinet, they bent and took out a large scroll.

  “That’s the Torah scroll,” Shannon whispered as the congregation began to sing. “Now they’ll carry it around the room so that everyone can have the chance to kiss or touch it.”

  After making the rounds, the people carrying the Torah returned it to the front of the room, setting it on what Shannon told The Saddle Club was the reader’s desk. She explained that the readers would chant the words of the Torah, using traditional melodies.

  The first reader was called. It was Phil’s uncle Paul. He read from the scroll in Hebrew, singing the words in his loud, booming voice.

  “I have no idea what he’s saying, but it sounds good, doesn’t it?” Lisa whispered to Carole.

  Carole smiled and nodded. She was enjoying the service, but she felt a little sleepy. The good night’s rest the night before had made her feel better, but it hadn’t made up for a week of restless nights.

  Several more readers followed, including Phil’s mother and a young man Shannon identified as their Hebrew-school teacher. Finally Phil’s name was called.

  He stepped forward, looking solemn but happy. Taking his place at the reader’s desk, he began to chant, the simple melody carrying the Hebrew words over the congregation in a rich, flowing stream. Stevie was impressed. Suddenly Phil really did look very grown-up, standing there.

  When Phil’s reading was over, Shannon explained that it was time for him to give his speech, the Dvar Torah. Sure enough, Phil pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, glanced down at it, and began to speak in English.

  He talked about the passage he had just read and what it had meant to him. Then he talked about what being Jewish meant to him. Glancing at his family as he spoke, he explained how much it meant to him to come from a family where each member was free to be himself or herself. He mentioned his father, who supported his wife and children’s religion while practicing his own. He talked about his aunt and un
cle, who had decided to move to Israel to experience a different kind of Jewish culture but still kept in close touch with the rest of the family. He even described the ways in which his sisters had supported him all his life—although the entire congregation chuckled when he added that they often did so by helping him practice debating skills and the skills of being patient and forgiving. He ended by saying that his family—and the Jewish community, which was another kind of family—had always encouraged him to speak up, to be himself, to explore the things that were important to him, such as riding, and in general to take control of his own life and shape it in the ways he wanted and needed to.

  Carole could see the people around her nodding at Phil’s words. Suddenly something Phil had said made an awful lot of sense to her, too. After listening to what he was saying about taking control of his own life, Carole had finally figured out what Mrs. Reg’s story had meant, and it wasn’t what she’d thought. She had a pretty good idea now what she had to do to make sure the phantom horse nightmares stopped for good. And once she’d figured that out, she was able to forget all about it and enjoy the rest of Phil’s celebration.

  THIS TIME CAROLE was riding Starlight on a treacherous mountain trail. Snow was just beginning to fall, and she shivered slightly despite her heavy jacket and pants. The trail led down into a shadowy valley, and that was where Starlight stopped and began the now familiar routine. He snorted, shook his head, and then bucked, sending Carole flying out of the saddle.

  She was on her feet immediately. Turning to face the horse, she saw that his eyes were glowing red and his sharp hooves were pawing the ground. The familiar feeling of panic washed over her, and for a second her instinct was to turn and run. But this time, for the first time since the dreams had started, she fought that feeling. This was her dream, and she was going to take control. Instead of fleeing, she put her hand into her jacket pocket. Her fingers closed around the carrot she knew she would find there.

  She took a deep breath and stood her ground as the phantom horse began his charge. Even though part of her knew that this was a dream, another part experienced it as perfectly real, and it was hard not to panic as the huge beast thundered toward her. At just the right moment Carole pulled the carrot from her pocket and held it out. “Hello, Starlight,” she said, her voice trembling just a little. “Good boy.”