The Mystery of the Masked Rider (12 page)

“Whoa. Hold on a minute.” Phil held up both
hands. “I don't like this idea at all. You're using Colleen as bait.”

“Not Colleen,” Nancy explained. “Me. I'll be dressed in the
Arabian Nights
costume. I'm hoping the person won't know the difference. And I can ride well enough to fool them into thinking it's you—for a little while, anyway. By that time you and the arena security will have nabbed them.”

Colleen and Phil looked at each other with doubtful expressions.

“What's going on here?” a sleepy voice called from the extra stall. Bess was standing in the doorway, squinting in the light.

“We're going to catch whoever's after Colleen,” Nancy said. “And we're going to need your help.”

Bess's eyes snapped instantly awake. “You can count on me!”

“Me, too,” Colleen added. “I'm tired of worrying and wondering what's going to happen next.”

“Phil?” Nancy looked expectantly at him.

Phil grinned. “I'm with you guys. I just hope I'm the one to catch whoever hurt Colleen.”

“Good. Then it's settled.” Nancy's eyes twinkled. “Colleen, you and Bess start telling people about the costume class. Phil, you guard Nightingale. I'm going to talk to security personnel. Then I'm going to try on that costume—and see how much I can look like Colleen!”

• • •

“Whoa, Nightingale,” Nancy crooned as Bess bent down to give her a leg up. Nancy stuck her knee in Bess's cupped hands, then hoisted herself into Nightingale's saddle. The filmy material from the
Arabian Nights
costume fluttered around Nancy's legs. On her feet she was wearing gold sandals.

Nancy and Bess were standing at the entrance to the main arena. It was five
A.M.
No one else was around. Phil was already hiding in the arena seats. With his telephoto lens attached to his camera, he was planning to shoot several pictures—just in case the person got away. Despite her protests, Colleen was safely stashed back in the motel. Nancy knew it was too dangerous to have her anywhere on the grounds.

Silently Bess helped Nancy adjust the stirrups. “You be careful,” Bess said in a hushed voice. “Especially since those arena security people didn't think much of your idea.”

“I can't blame them,” Nancy whispered back. “But I think it's the only way. Remember to leave the gate open in case I have to beat a hasty retreat, okay?”

“Right. Then I'll alert security to get into position.”

“Don't forget to wait until the last minute,” Nancy warned. “I don't want to scare away our bad guys.”

Bess nodded.

Nancy reached down and gave her friend's
hand a squeeze. Then she draped the costume's transparent veil across her face and adjusted the scarf over her hair. She wanted to make sure she could be mistaken for Colleen.

Collecting the reins, Nancy urged Nightingale into the main ring with a slight pressure of her calves. Colleen had warned her that the mare was very sensitive.

Nightingale danced forward in an eager trot. The Arabian costume's baggy pants fluttered against the mare's sides. Arching her neck, Nightingale broke into a nervous canter. When the mare spied several pumpkins arranged on a straw bale, she skittered sideways.

“Easy, girl. They're just decorations for Halloween.” Nancy glanced up into the seating area. The dim lights from overhead and at the exits cast spooky shadows along the empty rows of seats. Orange and black crepe paper streamers were strung along the railings circling the arena. She couldn't see Phil anywhere.

Then all of Nancy's attention was focused on controlling Nightingale, who snorted and pranced sideways nervously. “I know I'm not Colleen,” Nancy told the mare in a reassuring voice. “But I'm trying.”

They were almost to the other side of the ring when Nightingale suddenly spun around in alarm. Leaning forward, Nancy grabbed the mare's mane and hung on tight. Something must
have startled her, Nancy thought. And then she saw it.

A horse and rider were galloping across the arena—straight toward them! Nancy gasped and pulled Nightingale to a halt. Her heartbeat quickened as she tried to figure out who—or what—it was.

The rider charging toward her had no head or neck. He wore a long black cape, which billowed behind him. In one arm he carried a small, lighted pumpkin, a wicked grin carved in its face.

Nancy's mouth fell open. It was the Headless Horseman!

Or Headless Horsewoman, she thought grimly. Pulling herself together, she sprang into action. Quickly she tightened Nightingale's reins and squeezed the mare's sides with her legs. Nightingale leapt forward and, cantering toward the opposite side of the ring, passed the galloping black horse. Nancy halted Nightingale in the middle of the ring, and with a cry, the Headless Horseman reined the horse to a stop at the far end.

A deep, nasty laugh came from the chest of the horseman. “You can run all you want, Colleen Healey,” the voice boomed across the ring in a hoarse cry. “But this time I'm going to get you—for good!”

Great, Nancy thought. The person mistook her for Colleen. Now, if only Nancy could find out
who the horseman was. Phil's camera would be useless. Nancy knew she needed to identify the person, in case he or she escaped before security arrived.

As she cantered Nightingale toward the gate, Nancy tried to think of who could be hidden under the Headless Horseman costume. The costume over the person's face muffled the sound, so that Nancy couldn't recognize the deep voice. He or she was a good rider, and slim—probably too slim to be Diego. Was it Marisa under the costume, talking in a disguised voice?

Unfortunately, Nancy didn't recognize the horse. He was chunky and black, and the rider was reining him with one hand as if he were a cow pony.

When Nightingale reached the end of the ring, Nancy quickly checked the gate. Someone had shut it. With a jolt of fear, she noticed that the gate had also been secured with a padlock.

She was trapped!

Nancy's mind raced. Had the horseman locked the gate when she'd first entered the ring? She'd been concentrating on Nightingale and wouldn't have noticed. Or was someone else involved? Someone waiting in the stands? Nancy glanced nervously into the seats, but they still looked empty.

“Oh, hurry up, Bess,” Nancy pleaded softly. “Get those security guards down here—pronto.”

“Ha! Ha! Ha!” The eerie laugh echoed through the stands. “You'll never get away from me now, Colleen, because I'm the better rider! Nightingale's too good for you. She belongs to me!”

Nancy twirled sideways in her saddle in time to see the Headless Horseman dig his heels into his horse's side. The black horse reared, and with a whoop the two raced toward her across the ring.

Nancy's heart flip-flopped. Quick, think of something, she told herself. Maybe she could jump off Nightingale and escape into the stands. But what if someone was hiding there waiting for her? Besides, she didn't want to leave Nightingale.

Quickly Nancy scanned the seats. Where was Phil? she wondered. Had he double-crossed her?

Nancy took a deep breath. No one was coming to her rescue. She had to get the horseman before he got her. Then she'd find out for sure who it was.

With a racing heart Nancy turned Nightingale so that they faced the charging horse. “Okay, girl. Pretend you're in a jumping class, and it's time to win,” Nancy told the mare in as calm a voice as she could manage.

Nightingale's ears twitched, as if she were listening to Nancy. Then they pricked forward as the horseman drew closer. Nancy urged the mare away from the gate, toward the center of the ring and the black apparition racing toward her.

Raising the pumpkin to shoulder level, the
Headless Horseman gave a yell of triumph. Then he threw the pumpkin at Nancy.

“Now!” Nancy leaned forward in the saddle and dug her heels into Nightingale's sides. Startled, the mare leapt into the air. The pumpkin hurtled past, just missing Nancy's head.

At the same time, Nancy grabbed Nightingale's mane with one hand, then reached out and grasped the horseman's flowing back cape with the other. Gritting her teeth, she held on. The jolt almost pulled her off Nightingale, but she held tight to the mare's mane. With all her strength Nancy tore the cape from the rider.

“Ahhh!” The horseman screamed angrily as he was jerked from the saddle. The black horse continued to gallop forward as his rider flew off and landed with a thud in the tanbark. The pumpkin crashed beside him and splattered into several pieces.

“Whoa.” Nancy tugged on the reins and turned Nightingale in a circle, halting the mare about fifteen feet from the fallen rider. The horseman's body lay still. All that was left of the pumpkin's carved face grinned wickedly at her.

Nancy shuddered. “Bess? Phil?” she called into the stands. There was no answer. Something must have happened to keep the two of them from coming to her aid.

Slowly Nancy slid from Nightingale's back. When she got closer to the body, she gasped.
Through the dim light she saw a black mask with red sequins staring up at her. Could it be Marisa?

Tears pricked Nancy's eyes. There was no reason for this to have happened, she thought. She and her friends all liked Marisa. Colleen probably could have worked something out with the promising young rider. And now it was too late.

Approaching the body, Nancy noticed that the hair was dark, but to her surprise, it was too short to be Marisa's. Crouching down, Nancy saw that the masked rider was definitely male.

With trembling fingers, Nancy pulled down the mask. Then she gasped once again. The Headless Horseman was Scott Weller!

“Scott!” Nancy whispered in shock. Her hunch had been right. Colleen's charming, concerned friend must have been putting on an act. All this time he'd been plotting revenge on the rider who'd beaten him in the show at which his horse had been injured.

He'd been so obsessed, he'd almost killed Colleen, Nancy thought angrily. Still, she needed to get him help. With a quick glance at the stands, Nancy saw that they were still empty. Jumping up, she began to lead Nightingale toward the padlocked exit. Maybe if she yelled loud enough, someone would hear her.

“Don't move!” a voice suddenly growled beside her. “It's not over yet.”

Nancy whirled to her right. A raised rifle barrel pointed at her from the stands. Gloria
Donner was squinting down the gun sight, only ten feet away. “Just because Wonder Boy messed up doesn't mean I will.”

Nancy sucked in her breath. Gloria and Scott working together? Now everything made sense. It would have taken two people to plot out the scheme to get Colleen. One person—Gloria—who lived near Colleen, knew her every move and had access to the Healeys' barn. Gloria could have easily slipped the bouncing bet into Nightingale's stall. The other partner—Scott—was able to lurk out of sight at the show while Gloria pretended to be helpful. And both of them had had Colleen's trust.

“What is it that you want, Gloria?” Nancy called up to the trainer. Since the veil was still across Nancy's face, she hoped her voice would sound disguised.

“You don't know?” Gloria exclaimed incredulously. Then she laughed, a screeching sound that rang across the arena.

Oh, please let someone hear her! Nancy silently pleaded.

Abruptly the laughter stopped. “You're so naive, Colleen. That's what made it all so easy. I want
Nightingale
, of course. With Scott as her rider and me as her trainer, we'll go to the top. Not only will we make lots of money, but Scott will have his prize horse, and I'll have my reputation back.”

“Wouldn't it be better to do it honestly? I could just sell her to you,” Nancy fibbed nervously, hoping to stall Gloria.

The trainer snorted. “For what? Two hundred thousand? You think we have that kind of money?” She shook her head almost violently. “Nope. If my plan had worked, you would have been out of commission after your fall last night. I know your parents don't have the money for extra medical bills as well as a horse. With you unable to ride, Nightingale wouldn't be earning her keep. Posing as a friend of the family, I would have advised your parents to sell her while she's young and in top form. And, of course, since I'd be faithfully by your side at the hospital, your parents would have sold her to me—cheap!”

“So it was you who loosened that saddle,” Nancy accused.

Gloria grinned. “Brilliant, huh? Too bad Nightingale's so smart. Any other horse would have taken off over that jump, and you would've flown fifteen feet in the air. There's no way you could have avoided getting injured.”

“Maybe. But I don't understand,” Nancy said, trying to get more information from Gloria. “Why did you poison the hay? And the nails in the stall, the yarn and the mask . . . ?”

“Theatrics,” Gloria cut in. “Scott was the masked mystery man. All that stuff was to make sure the San Marcoses looked guilty. I didn't want those two getting hold of Nightingale if you
sold the horse. And the reason Scott locked you in the trailer was to make sure you'd be late for the Gambler's Choice, and too rattled to check your girth.” She gave a low chuckle. “Much to our surprise, you made it through the first round without falling off. Luckily, I convinced you to ride in the jump-off.”

“Sounds as if you thought of everything.” Nancy looked back at Scott, who still hadn't moved. His horse was standing patiently across the ring, the reins dangling to the ground. “Aren't you going to get help for Scott?”

“Soon. But first I want to carry out plan number two.” Gloria motioned toward Nightingale with the rifle barrel. “Get on. And if you think I won't shoot, guess again. I'm already in this deep, so there's no turning back.”