Mystery Ride (3 page)

G
REAT CLUE
, L
ISA
thought. The MW was off to a flying start.

“Was it your new saddle?” asked Jasmine.

May nodded.

“The one your grandparents bought you?” asked Amie.

Tears streamed down May’s face.

Lisa was astounded at how well May played this role. Lisa had done some acting, so she knew how hard it could be.

Carole shook her head. Maybe this wasn’t part of the pretend crime—it seemed so real, she thought.

“May,” came a voice from the stairs. Deborah, Max’s
wife, came running to the top of the stairs, her red hair flying. “I saw you crying. What’s wrong?”

May dived into Deborah’s arms. “My new saddle, the one my grandparents gave me, is gone.”

May’s saddle was German-made and expensive, Lisa knew. Losing it was a dire event.

“I never got around to putting my nameplate on the back,” May moaned.

Lots of riders put brass name tags on the back of their saddles so they could identify them in a crowded tack room.

“It was an Olympia,” May said. The other riders murmured with sympathy. An Olympia was ideal for cross-country, with a deep seat and narrow back. For many riders it was a dream saddle.

Max knelt down next to May and said gently, “Start from the beginning, May. Tell us what happened.”

“When I got Macaroni, my old saddle didn’t fit,” May said. May had outgrown her old pony, Luna, so her parents had recently bought her a new one, Macaroni. “And then my grandparents bought me the new saddle for my birthday. It’s almost grown-up size,” May said. She gulped.

“I know you were taking good care of it,” Max said. Everyone at Pine Hollow knew that May was a serious rider who took pride in her equipment.

“It was in the tack room in our stable this morning,” May said. “I got up early to clean it especially for the Mystery Weekend. I’m sure I put it back on the rack, but this afternoon it was gone.”

“Was anyone home during the day?” Max said.

“My mom,” May said. “She was home all day. She didn’t go into the barn, but there weren’t any cars or anything. The saddle just disappeared.” May began to cry again.

“Was anything else taken?” Lisa asked. She knew that May’s father was a horse trainer, so the family certainly owned other saddles, probably good ones.

May shook her head. “They didn’t take my father’s Siegfried.” A Siegfried was what was known as a lifetime saddle. Even used, its resale value was excellent. “Or my mother’s saddle, which is practically new. Or the CD player.”

“I suppose you called the police,” said Veronica with a superior smile.

May nodded. “Officer Kent came.”

“I know him. He’s an excellent officer. What did he say?” Max asked.

“He said there wasn’t much he could do. He said saddles are really easy to sell. And … and …”

“What?” said Max softly.

“He doesn’t think I’ll get my saddle back.”

At this everybody started talking and asking questions, except for Veronica, who stood back with a smug smile on her face to show she was above this melodrama. Betsy and Polly, who were the other members of Veronica’s team, looked back and forth from May to Veronica, unable to decide whether to be sympathetic. Their faces changed expression depending on where they were looking.

“It’s for real,” Lisa whispered to Stevie and Carole. “Max would never involve the police in a fake mystery.”

Stevie crossed her arms, looking from May to Max and back again. True, Max looked genuinely worried. But after all, as they all knew, Max could be diabolically clever at times.

“Who says May really called the police?” asked Stevie. “What if it’s all part of the fake mystery? After all, we’re up against Max.”

As if Max heard her, he stood up and said to the group, “I want to impress one thing on you all. May’s problem is real. It’s not part of the pretend mystery. It’s not a game.”

“See?” Lisa whispered to Stevie and Carole.

“You forget that we’re dealing with a supremely devious mind,” Stevie whispered back.

Deborah pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped May’s face.

“This doesn’t mean you have to miss the weekend, May,” Deborah said. “I know your old saddle doesn’t fit Macaroni, but you can borrow a Pine Hollow saddle. In fact, I have one in mind, a nice hunting saddle with a square cantle.” The Saddle Club exchanged grins. It wasn’t long ago that Deborah had been a complete stranger to horses. In fact, she had been nervous and tense around them. Now she was talking like a pro.

“Very convincing,” came Veronica’s sarcastic voice.

Deborah looked up, annoyed. “Who said that?”

“I did,” said Veronica. “You rehearsed this whole thing ahead of time. And I must say you did a very nice job. Those tears were almost convincing,” she said to May, who flushed. “You almost fooled me. But you didn’t. I can now solve the mystery.” Veronica threw Stevie a superior look. “The mystery is that there is no mystery. May’s saddle wasn’t really stolen. It’s all a phony.”

“You’re a phony,” May cried.

This did not seem to bother Veronica in the slightest. “I stand by my analysis,” she said smugly. “You can outsmart the others”—she threw another look at Stevie—“but you can’t outsmart me.”

“I hope someone takes your saddle next, and then you’ll know what it feels like,” May said passionately.

Veronica tossed her head. “I don’t think so.” She looked
calm, but Stevie could see a flicker of worry in Veronica’s eyes. What if there
was
a saddle thief? What if the thief was in the Pine Hollow tack room at this minute?

Stevie gasped. The saddle that she’d gotten for Belle was in the tack room. It was almost new, but already it was beginning to conform to the curves of Belle’s back, and it was as comfortable to Stevie as a favorite pair of shoes.

Everyone else must have had the same thought, because there was a mad stampede toward the stairs.

“Riders,” called Max. But for once nobody listened to him. The stairs were jammed with riders heading for the tack room.

They rushed through the feed room into the tack room, where there were shouts of joy as Pony Clubbers saw that their saddles were still there. Slowly, the sound of panic changed into happy chattering.

“Whew,” said Amie with her arms around her saddle. “At least we can ride out now and look for May’s saddle.”

Veronica was standing casually next to her custom-made saddle. She was smiling as if she’d never been worried at all.

“I told you there’s nothing to worry about,” said Veronica, her voice cutting through the happy din. “It’s pure, unadulterated nonsense.” Suddenly she frowned. “Wait a second,” she said. “Something’s missing.”

“Like your brain?” said A.J.

Veronica looked at an empty rack, wrinkling her forehead. “Whose saddle goes there?” The saddles at Pine Hollow belonged to individual horses. There were no common saddles.

Veronica put a red fingernail on the label underneath the saddle rack. “It’s Nickers,” she said smugly. “Someone has stolen his tack.”

E
VERYONE IN THE
tack room started talking and asking questions at once.

“Veronica’s on a roll, or is that an English muffin?” Stevie muttered. She wished that she had spotted Nickel’s missing saddle herself. Nickel was a Pine Hollow lesson pony. A lot of the riders had learned to ride on the sweet-natured dappled gray pony, and he was a big favorite.

“His pad is missing, too,” Amie said.

“And so is his bridle,” Jackie said.

“That’s what I said,” Veronica said smugly. “His entire tack is gone.”

Everyone turned to May.

“Was Macaroni’s bridle missing?” Carole asked.

“No,” May said. “And it was a brand-new English bridle with laced reins. But his fleece saddle pad was missing.”

Lisa noticed that Max was looking calmer. Truly, Max was hard to figure, Lisa thought. The theft of the first saddle had upset him, while the theft of the second saddle seemed to make him feel better.

“This whole thing is crazy,” Stevie muttered. “Why would a thief steal Nickel’s bridle, which isn’t worth much of anything, and leave Macaroni’s valuable bridle?”

The discovery of the missing tack touched off another wave of madness as riders checked to make sure that their bridles, martingales, and breastplates were still there.

“This is beyond crazy,” Stevie said to Lisa and Carole as they watched the riders mill around. “A thief comes into the tack room and steals Nickel’s saddle, which is old and crummy, and his bridle, which is even older and crummier, and leaves a lot of good things behind.”

“It’s totally strange,” agreed Lisa.

“If this thief had any brains at all, he—or she—would have stolen a really good saddle, like mine,” Stevie said, putting her hand lovingly on the cantle, the back end of the saddle. It was a full-contact saddle, cut narrow in the middle to let the rider feel the horse. The saddle flaps were curved forward to protect the rider’s knees during jumps.
All in all, it was a perfect saddle for Stevie, suitable for jumping with its high back and extended flaps, and perfect for dressage with its narrow middle. “Now
that
is a saddle,” Stevie said.

“It sounds to me like you want your saddle stolen,” Lisa said.

“No way,” Stevie said, “but when I go up against a thief, I like to go up against one with a big brain.”

“The Albert Einstein of thieves?” Carole said.

“That’s it.”

Carole could see that Stevie had fully entered into the spirit of things. She was playing this MW for all it was worth.

“Hmmm,” said Lisa, pressing her fingers to her forehead. “I feel a thought coming on.”

“Yes!” Stevie said. “We could definitely use a thought.”

Lisa closed her eyes. “I’m getting a question. Yes. It’s coming to me. My question is …”

Stevie and Carole leaned close to listen.

“What if someone forgot to put away Nickel’s tack and it’s still in his stall?”

“Honestly,” said Stevie, her shoulders slumping. “That’s the least mysterious idea I ever heard.”

“But it could be right,” Carole said with a grin. “People have been known to forget to put tack away.”

“Yes,” Lisa said. “When I was a beginning rider, I did it once myself.” Lisa didn’t like to think back to those early days, when it seemed as if everything she did was wrong.

“So let’s check,” said Stevie. “But let’s do it like proper detectives. Let’s do it with stealth.”

“Total stealth,” Carole agreed.

Casually Stevie put her hands in her pockets and strolled toward the locker room. As she disappeared from view Lisa and Carole could hear her whistling. A moment later Lisa left the tack room and headed into the yard. Carole lingered a moment and then wandered into the feed room. Then, after looking both ways, she walked back out.

Nickel’s stall was on the left side of the U that formed the stable. Carole, Stevie, and Lisa, each coming from a different direction, arrived at the same time.

Nickel’s saddle wasn’t on the rack outside the door. His bridle wasn’t on the peg. But that didn’t mean anything, Carole knew. Every so often a truly inexperienced rider—or a sloppy one—left a horse’s tack inside the stall, or even worse, on the horse.

“Could it be we have a junior Veronica diAngelo among us?” Carole said. Veronica was known for not putting away her gear. In fact, Red O’Malley, the stable hand, usually had to do it for her.

Carole opened the stall door. Nickel’s stall was empty.

Lisa screamed. Carole blinked. Stevie muttered, “I don’t believe it.”

In response to Lisa’s scream, every rider at Pine Hollow came running. When they got to the empty stall they stared wide-eyed.

“Nickel is gone,” Carole said.

“It’s getting worse and worse,” Amie said. “First they stole tack, now they’re stealing ponies.”

The riders gasped as they wondered whether their own mounts had been stolen.

This touched off yet another stampede as the riders ran to the other stalls to see if the horses were still there.

“I checked Starlight on the way,” Carole said. “He’s fine.” Lisa and Stevie nodded because they’d checked Belle and Prancer as well.

They stood in the empty stall, listening to the other riders run back and forth. “This is totally dumb,” Stevie said. “Who would steal a sweet old lesson pony when there are plenty of valuable horses to steal?”

“You mean you
want
the thief to steal Belle?” said Lisa with a shake of her head. “First you wanted your saddle stolen, and now your horse?”

“No way!” Stevie said. “Belle was stolen once. Do you think I’d want her to go through that again?”

When Stevie first got Belle, it turned out that the mare actually belonged to someone else. There had been a court case with an injunction and a lot of bad feeling. In the end, everything had turned out fine, and the Lakes bought Belle for Stevie. But the whole experience had been upsetting for horse and rider.

By this time relieved Pony Clubbers were coming back.

“Nickel’s the only one who’s missing,” Amie said.

“I know Nickel was here a few minutes ago because I stopped to give him an apple,” Jackie said.

“So now it’s time to look for clues,” said Veronica, pushing her way to the front. “Let me see.” Thoughtfully she tapped her chin. “It seems to me that Nickel’s bucket is gone, too,” she said. “And his lead rope and halter.”