The Mystery of the Masked Rider

by Carolyn Keene

  “I need to exercise Nightingale in the warm-up ring,” Colleen said. “Why don’t you two grab an early dinner? It may be your last chance.”

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Nancy asked.

  Colleen gave her a reassuring smile. “Phil will be here, don’t worry.”

  “That’s what I’m worried about,” Nancy muttered to herself as she and Bess headed down the aisle.

  “What are you mumbling about?” Bess asked.

  “I don’t like leaving Colleen and Nightingale alone with Phil.”

  Bess stopped in her tracks. “Do you still think he’s guilty?”

  “Phil is one of my main suspects.”

  “After all you found out about the San Marcoses? I mean, even though they were in Florida the night Colleen found Nightingale loose in the barn, they could have hired someone to steal her.”

  “Don’t worry. Diego and Marisa are high on my list, too.” Nancy pointed to a wide door through which a stream of people and horses was moving in and out. “That must be the entrance to the arena.”

  “This place is huge,” Bess said as they walked through the doorway and out into an open area, filled with riders exercising their horses. The floor had been covered with tanbark. Several jumps had been set up along one side. A walkway bordered the other side. The only thing separating pedestrians from horses was a rope strung between a row of wooden poles.

  “This must be where Colleen’s going to warm up Nightingale,” Nancy said. “And look, there’s the entrance into the show ring.” She pointed to a high, solid gate that was just being opened to let out a horse and rider.

  “Our next contestant is Elsa Van den Berg, aboard Stowaway,” the loudspeaker system blared into the warm-up area and across the whole arena. Nancy watched as a rider in hunt clothes jogged a sleek gray horse into the ring.

  “I wonder where the food is?” Bess mused as they headed down the walkway.

  In front of them Nancy could see the entrance to a double stairway. “Over there, I bet,” she said, leading the way.

  At the top of the stairs the girls stepped into a crowded walkway the width of a city street. Concession stands and booths lined both sides. The booths were selling everything from artwork to horse feed.

  “This is the concourse Colleen was telling me about,” Nancy said. “It circles the arena.”

  Bess’s eyes bugged out. “You mean there are booths around this entire arena?”

  Nancy laughed. “Yup. A hundred and twenty of them.”

  “Oh!” Bess clasped her hands. “I’ve died and gone to heaven.” Immediately she set off toward a display of silver jewelry. Nancy grabbed her arm.

  “Let’s get some food first. Then you can shop until you drop.”

  Bess nodded. “Good idea. I’ll need the strength.”

  The girls found a small cafeteria-style restaurant. Nancy picked out juice, a salad, and a turkey sandwich. When she glanced at Bess, she saw that her friend’s tray was heaped with food.

  “Over here!” someone called as they were paying the cashier. Nancy looked across the crowded room. Scott Weller was gesturing from a corner.

  She wound her way through the tables and set her tray opposite his. “Hi. You’re not showing tonight?”

  “Not until eight.” He gave her a friendly smile. “That’s why I’m eating now. It’ll give my food a chance to digest before I get prejumping jitters.”

  Nancy sat down and poured her juice. She noticed Scott had finished eating. “I’m surprised that someone who’s been competing as long as you still gets nervous.”

  Scott shrugged. “I never totally relax. But that’s good, I guess. It gives me that edge I need to win.”

  “Whooo. This weighs a ton.” Setting her tray down, Bess slid into the seat next to Scott. He chuckled when he saw all her food.

  “All I had for lunch was a skimpy sandwich,” Bess quickly explained.

  Nancy laughed. “And a granola bar and a . . .”

  Her friend held up her hand to silence her. “Colleen said we may not get a chance to eat later, remember?”

  “Have you girls known Colleen long?” Scott asked.

  “Since high school,” Bess answered, biting into her hamburger. “How about you?”

  “Oh, I started competing against Colleen and Nightingale about two years ago in amateur-owner jumper classes.”

  Nancy stopped chewing. “Colleen told us what happened to your horse. That must have been tough.”

  “It was, at the time. But I got over it. You can’t be sentimental in this business.”

  “What happened to your horse?” Bess asked. “Colleen said she couldn’t jump anymore.”

  “She slipped and fell on some wet footing at a show. She broke her leg in two places, so they had to put her down.”

  Bess looked confused.

  “That means the vet had to put her to sleep,” Scott explained in a matter-of-fact voice. “It’s almost impossible to put a cast on a horse.”

  Bess flushed. “Oh, I’m really sorry.”

  Nancy put down her sandwich. No matter how casual Scott acted, she could tell by his downcast eyes that he was still upset about the death of his horse.

  “So, let’s talk about something different,” he said finally. “What do you think of Nightingale?”

  “She’s terrific,” Nancy said. “Not that either of us knows much about horses,” she added.

  “And we haven’t really seen her jump anything very high,” Bess said.

  “Why’s that?” Scott raised his brows.

  Immediately Nancy shot Bess a warning look. She didn’t want her telling anyone about Nightingale’s injuries.

  “Uh,” Bess stammered. “Because this is the first time we’ve seen Colleen show her.”

  “Oh.” Scott settled back in his chair, as if satisfied with her answer.

  “Since you showed amateur-owner, did you also compete against Marisa San Marcos?” Nancy asked. Maybe Scott knew something that might help Nancy with the case.

  Scott shook his head. “No, fortunately. Marisa and her father are like two barracuda. They’d do anything to win. Don’t get me wrong. Marisa is a super rider for someone her age, and Diego buys the finest horses.”

  That’s just what Nancy had thought.

  “The year that Marisa started in amateur-owner, I went professional,” Scott continued. “Colleen rode against her all year, though.” He chuckled. “Much to Diego’s dismay.”

  “Why’s that?” Nancy asked.

  “Because Colleen always beat Marisa, no matter which horse she rode. It really ticked off old Diego. He wants to be number one.”

  “I got that feeling, too,” Bess said. “That’s why he wants to buy Nightingale.”

  Scott’s brows raised in surprise. “Colleen’s going to sell Nightingale?”

  “I think you’ll have to ask Colleen about that,” Nancy told him.

  Bess flushed again. “Me and my big mouth. I figured everyone knew.”

  “Well, we’d better be going.” Nancy stood up. “Maybe we’ll get to watch Colleen exercise Nightingale.”

  “Not me!” Bess exclaimed. “I can hear those little booths calling to me, ‘Bess, Bess, come spend some money.’ ”

  Nancy and Scott laughed.

  “I’ll walk down with you,” Scott told Nancy. The three of them dumped their trash, then headed out of the cafeteria. Bess waved goodbye and disappeared into the crowd walking around the concourse. Nancy and Scott went down the steps. At the bottom they had to show their exhibitor badges.

  The warm-up area was full of horses in western-style tack.

  “The next class must be cutting horse,” Scott said. “That’s where the horse is judged on how well it can separate a cow from the herd. It’s pretty neat to watch.”

  A truck pulling a long trailer rumbled into the area. In the back of the trailer a dozen cows snuffled and bellowed.

  Standing on tiptoe, Nancy looked around for Colleen. Her friend was tro
tting Nightingale in small circles on the other side of the warm-up ring.

  “They make a great team, don’t they?” Scott nodded in the direction Nancy was looking. “I don’t understand why Colleen would ever want to sell Nightingale.”

  “Whatever her reasons, it can’t be an easy decision.” Nancy tried to sound vague. She glanced sideways at Scott as they started down the walkway toward horse and rider. “Isn’t it unusual for you and Colleen to have stayed such good friends? After all, you’re rivals, right?”

  “Well, yes and no,” Scott replied. “It’s true that when big prize money’s involved, horse people tend to get greedy. At the same time you spend half your life showing. You see other riders more than your family. If you didn’t make friends, you’d be really lonely.”

  Just then Colleen caught sight of her friends and waved them over. Nancy waved back and started to duck under the rope.

  “Watch out!” Colleen yelled suddenly.

  Nancy looked up, and her heart flew into her throat. A riderless horse, reins hanging loose, was galloping straight for her!

  8

  Bumps in the Night

  Nancy felt strong hands yank her backward. Losing her balance, she fell in the tanbark as Scott ducked under the rope and raised his arms.

  “Whoa!” he yelled.

  The galloping horse snorted and veered away from him. Colleen reined Nightingale into the horse’s path. “Whoa,” she echoed Scott’s command.

  The runaway horse slid to a stop, then lunged to the right. Wheeling Nightingale in a circle, Colleen boxed the horse into a corner. At the same time a rider in cowboy hat and chaps rushed up.

  “Whoa, Minx,” the rider crooned. With a snort Minx tossed his head, pranced a few steps, then finally halted.

  “Are you all right?” Scott turned to Nancy after the rider had caught his horse.

  “Fine.” Nancy stood up and brushed off her jeans. “Thanks to you.”

  “I should have warned you to watch out,” Scott said. “When this many horses are packed into a small space, you’re bound to have trouble.”

  “Hey, are you two okay?” Colleen trotted over on Nightingale.

  Nancy nodded. “That was some pretty good rounding up you did,” she teased. “Maybe you two should be in the cutting class.”

  Colleen laughed. “I don’t think we’re quite ready to tackle cows yet.”

  “Hey, sorry about that.” Minx’s owner came up to them, his now-docile horse walking beside him. He gave Nancy a concerned look. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded and smiled to show him she was fine.

  “This is my horse’s first show in an indoor arena,” he explained. “The truck pulling the cows spooked him.”

  “Don’t worry, we understand,” Scott said. “It’s happened to all of us at least once.”

  The cowboy tipped his hat and walked off.

  “I’d better be going, too,” Scott said. “The Stanleys will be nervous if I’m not ready for my class an hour early.”

  “Good luck,” Nancy and Colleen both called to him.

  “What’s he competing in tonight?” Nancy asked Colleen when Scott had left.

  “The National Open Jumper class,” Colleen replied.

  “Why aren’t you entered in that?”

  “Nightingale’s still young, so I don’t want to push her,” Colleen told her. “Two jumping classes is enough for us to handle.”

  Colleen dismounted and pulled the reins over Nightingale’s head. As they walked back to the stable area, Nancy told her friend about her conversation with Scott.

  “Bess didn’t mean to blurt out about your thinking of selling Nightingale,” Nancy explained.

  Colleen shrugged. “Well, everybody will have to know sometime. If I do decide to sell, the San Marcoses won’t be the only ones who’ll be interested.”

  “Speaking of the San Marcoses . . .” Nancy began. She told Colleen about Marisa’s costume.

  “You mean the mask in the aisle was Marisa’s?” Colleen asked in a shocked voice.

  “I’m not positive, but I think so,” Nancy said. “Did you know that Marisa was riding in the Worthington Cup?”

  Colleen shook her head. “No. It’ll be her first grand prix event.”

  “It also gives her a reason to want Nightingale out of the class.”

  Colleen stopped walking and stared at Nancy in disbelief. “No way. Marisa’s one of the most talented young riders on the East Coast. Not only wouldn’t she jeopardize her career doing something stupid like sabotaging Nightingale, but she doesn’t need to. She’s good enough to win on her own.”

  “Maybe she’s good enough, but what about her horses?”

  “Okay, so they’re not as good as Nightingale,” Colleen conceded. “But she still wouldn’t resort to sabotage. She loves Nightingale too much.”

  “Do you think all that cooing over your horse could be an act?”

  “No!” Colleen said firmly. Clucking to Nightingale, she led the mare into the stable area.

  Nancy caught up to them, and they walked down the aisle in silence. Colleen was having a hard time believing that anyone she knew could be a possible suspect, and Nancy understood that. Still, her job was to find out who was guilty, even if it did upset her friend.

  “What about Diego?” Nancy asked finally. “Even Scott said that Diego would do anything to win.”

  “I don’t know,” Colleen said. She sounded angry. Then her shoulders slumped. “It’s not that I don’t want to help you, Nancy. But you’re asking me to accuse people I’ve known for years. People who I’ve always thought were honest.”

  Nancy reached over and squeezed Colleen’s arm. “I know it’s hard,” she said. “But—”

  “So there you are,” Phil called, walking toward them. He had a plastic dry-cleaner’s bag draped over one arm. “Are you ready to head back to the motel and dress for the party?” he asked Colleen.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Colleen said halfheartedly. “I really shouldn’t leave Nightingale alone. I think I’ll just set up the cot in the extra stall and turn in early.”

  “No way!” Nancy protested. “Bess and I will sleep here and keep our eyes on Nightingale.”

  “Well . . .” Colleen looked undecided.

  “I want you to go,” Nancy insisted. “That way you can keep an eye on your rivals.” She gave Colleen a meaningful look. Then she turned and pulled the mask from its hiding place behind a bucket. “I also want you to present this to Marisa and see her reaction.”

  “Oh, all right,” Colleen said finally. “But I’m not wearing a costume.”

  “Oh, yeah?” With a grin Phil held up the plastic bag by a hanger. “Check this out,” he said, pulling up the plastic. Underneath was a gold-embroidered outfit with filmy harem pants—a costume straight out of the Arabian Nights.

  Colleen drew in her breath as she touched the shimmering bodice. “Phil, it’s beautiful. Where’d you get it?”

  “Let’s just say I rubbed my magic lamp, and out jumped a genie who gave it to me.”

  “Oh, right.” Colleen laughed. Nancy was glad her friend had relaxed again. She was also glad that Colleen and Phil were going to the party. That would keep Phil out of the way.

  “And what are you going to wear?” Nancy asked Phil as she started to unsaddle Nightingale.

  He frowned. “Well, that’s a problem. Any suggestions?”

  Just then Bess came striding down the aisle toward them. She was carrying a cowboy hat. “Look what I bought!” she said, plopping it on her head.

  Grinning, Nancy looked back at Phil. “Well, how about the Wild West look?”

  • • •

  “Let’s see,” Bess said, holding up her watch later that evening. Squinting, she tried to read the numbers in the dim light from the stable aisle. “It’s eleven o’clock, which means that everyone at the party is feasting on crab-stuffed mushrooms and spiced shrimp.” She sighed. “And here we sit in a cold, smelly stall listening to a hor
se chew its hay.”

  Nancy laughed at her friend. Bess was sitting on the edge of one of the cots they’d set up in the stall next to Nightingale’s. Nancy was stretched out in a sleeping bag on the other cot, her jacket scrunched into a pillow. “At least we won’t gain any weight from too much rich food,” Nancy teased.

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.” Leaning over, Bess rustled around in her backpack and pulled out two packages of cookies and a bag of chips. “Reinforcements.”

  Tossing a package to Nancy, Bess settled back on her own cot. Both girls began to quietly munch their cookies. Nancy heard the rustle of straw as Nightingale turned in her stall. All evening they’d kept a sharp eye on the mare. Now that the stable had quieted down and most of the people had left, Nancy thought it was safe to relax a little.

  “At least Colleen’s having fun,” Bess said a moment later.

  “And she’s keeping an eye on Phil and Marisa,” Nancy added. “If everyone’s at the party, it’ll make our job easier.” She yawned and rubbed her eyes. “Whew, it’s been a long day.”

  “I know what you mean.” Bess kicked off her sneakers and slid into her sleeping bag. “This cot’s not as bad as I thought.”

  “Mmmm.” Nancy yawned again. “Actually, it’s kind of comfortable,” she mumbled. Pulling the sleeping bag up to her chin, she snuggled down under it. The hushed sounds of the stable were lulling. Nancy could see Nightingale’s rusty coat through the slats of the stall wall. Glancing at Bess, she noticed her friend had already fallen asleep. Maybe I should stay awake and watch Nightingale, Nancy thought, but her eyes were heavy. Soon she was asleep, too.

  Hours later Nancy woke with a start and sat up straight. For a second she was confused, but then the dim light from the stable aisle reminded her of where she was. Checking her watch, she noticed it was four A.M.

  Suddenly a rustling noise and the quick clip-clop of horse’s hooves startled Nancy. She decided she’d better check Nightingale.

  Unzipping the sleeping bag, Nancy slipped out of it and put on her sneakers. Then she jumped from the cot and ran to the doorway. A figure dressed in a black hat and cape was running down the aisle. Nancy blinked. I must be dreaming, she thought.

  Then Nancy glanced in the opposite direction. Nightingale’s stall door was wide open. In two strides Nancy was standing in the doorway. The stall was empty. Nightingale was gone!