The Mystery of the Masked Rider (2 page)

Nancy nodded and ran from the barn. Bess was waiting in her car. When she saw Nancy rush past, she rolled down the window. “What's
wrong?” she called, but Nancy had no time to explain.

Ten minutes later Nancy had contacted the vet and was back in the barn, standing next to Bess. Colleen was leading Nightingale up the aisle toward them. The mare's neck was soaked with sweat, and she stumbled when she drew closer to the girls.

“I told the vet's office it was an emergency,” Nancy told Colleen. “The receptionist said the vet would be here as soon as possible.”

Colleen nodded, but her face looked white and drawn.

“I thought colic was just a stomachache that babies get,” Bess said, frowning.

“Yes, but it's more serious in horses,” Colleen explained. “When a horse's stomach gets upset, the pressure builds inside and can cause the intestines to twist.”

Bess wrinkled her nose. “That sounds painful.”

Colleen nodded. “So painful the horse can go into shock. That's why I'm trying to keep Nightingale moving. If she thrashes around in her stall, it might increase the risk of injury.”

“Anything we can do?” Nancy asked, worried.

Colleen shook her head as she headed back down the aisle. “Just keep an eye out for the vet.”

Fifteen long minutes later a dusty pickup rattled up the drive. Colleen led Nightingale into
her stall to wait for the veterinarian. Dr. Hall, a tiny woman about forty years old, bustled inside.

“Let's take a look at you, Nightingale,” the vet said as she dug into her medical bag. Nancy and Bess watched from the open stall door.

“Breathing's accelerated.” Dr. Hall put a stethoscope in her ears and listened to the mare's heart. “So's the heartbeat.” She placed the end of the stethoscope on the horse's flank, the area where the back leg met the body. “Lots of gurgling and rumbling in the intestines. Looks like your diagnosis was right, Colleen.”

Bending down, Dr. Hall rummaged around in her bag and pulled out a big syringe. “First we'll give her a pain reliever and tranquilizer to calm her down.”

The doctor plunged the needle into Nightingale's neck. Bess sucked in her breath, but the mare didn't seem to feel the shot. Nancy looked up at Colleen. Her friend's eyes were misty.

Dr. Hall gave Colleen's shoulder a pat. “Hang in there. We'll pump some mineral oil in her, and your baby will be as good as new.”

Colleen sniffed and wiped her tears on her shirtsleeve. “I wish I knew what happened. She was cool when I put her in the stall. She had some hay left from this morning, but that's all.”

“Could've been anything,” Dr. Hall said. “Maybe something she ate.”

As the shot took effect, Nancy could see that
Nightingale was beginning to relax. The mare's breathing slowed, and her eyelids drooped.

“Let's see if that helps,” Dr. Hall said to Colleen. “I'll stick around for a while. Before I leave, though, I want to check out your feed. Maybe we can find out what did this to Nightingale.”

Colleen patted Nightingale reassuringly, then unsnapped the lead line. Reaching down, she grabbed an armful of hay and carried it out of the stall. Nightingale gave a big sigh, then hung her head as if she were sleeping.

Colleen spread the hay on the floor of the aisle. While Dr. Hall put away her supplies, Nancy kneeled down and searched through the hay.

“Look at this,” she said, holding up a green weed with three-inch-long leaves. “This isn't dry like the rest of the hay.”

“Let's show it to Dr. Hall,” Colleen suggested. The three girls walked outside to the doctor's pickup.

“That's your culprit,” Dr. Hall said after they'd handed it to her. “Bouncing bet.”

“Bouncing bet?” Bess repeated. “That sounds like a dessert.”

Dr. Hall laughed. “It would be the last dessert you'd want to eat for a while,” she said. “Bouncing bet is a very poisonous weed. It won't kill you, but it gives you a pretty bad stomachache. Unfortunately, it grows wild around here.” She shook
her head as though puzzled. “Though why it's in Nightingale's hay, I couldn't say. If it had been cut in the field and baled with the rest of the hay, it should be dry.”

Nancy nodded in agreement. “It almost looks as if someone cut it fresh. Look. The bottom of the stalk was severed with something sharp, like a knife.”

“That's crazy!” Colleen exclaimed. “Why would anyone want to poison Nightingale? It must've gotten in there by mistake,” she added quickly.

“Then you'd better check all your bales of hay before Nightingale eats some more,” Dr. Hall said firmly.

Nancy glanced at Colleen. Her friend was staring at the ground, but her cheeks were flushed. Did Colleen know something she wasn't telling them?

Dr. Hall checked Nightingale one last time. “She seems to be resting comfortably. The tranquilizer lasts for about an hour. If she's at all restless or in pain when she comes out of it, call me—pronto. I'll stop by this afternoon.”

After the doctor had left, Nancy turned to Colleen. “I'll help you look through the other bales.”

“Me, too,” Bess offered.

Colleen sighed. “You and Dr. Hall are probably right, Nancy. Someone must have put the weed in Nightingale's hay.”

“But who would deliberately want to hurt your horse?” Bess asked.

“The San Marcoses were here long enough to throw something in the stall,” Nancy said. “And you mentioned that some trainer visited earlier. What did you say her name was?”

“Gloria Donner.” Shaking her head, Colleen slowly began to walk down the aisle. “I can't believe the San Marcoses or Gloria would be involved. I mean, they have no
reason
. If someone wanted Nightingale, why would they put her in danger? I'd say it was just an accident, except . . .” She hesitated.

“Except what?” Nancy prodded gently. “Did something else happen to Nightingale?”

Colleen nodded. “Last week, when I went into the barn one morning, she was wandering loose in the aisle.”

“Couldn't she have gotten out of her stall by mistake?” Bess asked.

“No,” Colleen said firmly. “Right now, Nightingale's worth over one hundred fifty thousand dollars. If she does well in the Midwest International, her price will jump to two hundred thousand.”

Bess sucked in her breath. “You're kidding!”

Colleen shook her head, her expression dead serious. “And when you own a horse worth that kind of money, you
don't
make mistakes like forgetting to lock the stall.”

“Then how did Nightingale get out?” Nancy asked.

Colleen shook her head. “I have no idea. My dad and I don't keep the outside doors padlocked, in case a fire breaks out. But one or both of us is always home.”

Nancy thought for a moment. “Then it sounds as though someone sneaked in at night.”

Colleen nodded. “That's what my parents and I think. The row of white pines along the drive could have muffled a car motor. Since the night we found Nightingale loose, we've installed an alarm system. It buzzes in the house if anyone comes up the drive.”

“Do you think someone tried to
steal
Nightingale?” Bess asked, her eyes wide.

“We don't know,” Colleen replied. “My dad remembers hearing a noise that night and turning on the outside light. That may have been enough to scare off whoever it was.”

“Wow.” Nancy folded her arms across her chest. “This is developing into quite a mystery.”

Bess shook her head. “They seem to follow you around, Nancy Drew.”

“Any idea who—?” Nancy started to ask, but the roar of a car motor and the grate of tires on gravel stopped her in mid-sentence.

A car door slammed loudly. “Colleen!” an angry male voice hollered from outside the barn.

Colleen clapped her hand over her mouth.
“Oh, no! It's Phil! I forgot to call him about missing lunch.”

“Well, surely if you explain about—” Bess began.

“What is going on!” Phil Ackerman stood in the doorway of the barn. His fists were propped on his hips. Nancy thought he looked like a gunfighter about to shoot. “I waited for over an hour for you!” Phil thundered.

“Oh, Phil, I'm so sorry.” Colleen ran toward him. Nancy and Bess stayed back by Nightingale's stall. “You've got every right to be angry,” Colleen said quickly. “We were on our way, but Nightingale got sick, and the vet just left. I completely forgot to call you.”

Phil Ackerman's face went from pink to red. He glanced at Nancy and Bess, then grabbed Colleen by the elbow and pulled her outside.

“You could have called,” he said, his voice a low growl. Nancy tried not to listen, but it was hard not to overhear.

Colleen murmured something, and then Phil's voice rose to an angry shout. “That's all you think about, isn't it? Well, this is the last time that stupid horse comes between us, Colleen. If you're going to be my girlfriend, you've got to give up Nightingale—or else!”

Nancy watched in shocked silence as Phil Ackerman stormed across the gravel drive. Moments later his sports car zoomed down the drive in a cloud of dust. She couldn't see Colleen.

“Wow,” Bess whispered. “What do you think that was all about?”

“I don't know, but he sounded plenty angry,” Nancy whispered back. “Angrier than someone who'd just been stood up for lunch.”

Bess nodded. “Maybe we'd better see if Colleen's okay.”

Nancy and Bess walked to the outside door and peeked around it. Colleen was leaning against the barn wall, wiping tears from her eyes. With a halfhearted smile, she waved to them.

“So much for first impressions,” she said with a sniff, taking the tissue Bess had hurried to hand her. “You guys must think Phil's a real jerk.”

“We're not going to think anything until we hear what's going on,” Nancy said.

“Thanks.” Colleen blew her nose, then breathed deeply. “There, I feel better.” She flashed a big smile, but Nancy could tell it was forced.

“How about some lunch?” Colleen asked, changing the subject. “If you don't mind tuna fish and carrot sticks, Healeys' Kitchen has great food.”

“Sounds good to me.” Bess linked her arm through Colleen's. “I'm so hungry, I could eat a horse!” Realizing what she'd said, she clapped her hand over her mouth in embarrassment. “Oops.”

Nancy and Colleen burst into laughter as the three of them went into the barn to check on Nightingale. But when they passed the pile of hay in the middle of the aisle, Colleen's laughter died. “What a morning,” she said under her breath.

Ten minutes later the girls were in the Healeys' kitchen, making tuna sandwiches.

“I'm sure glad Nightingale's better,” Nancy said. “That was quite a scare.”

“Boy, was it.” Colleen poured out three glasses of juice and placed them around the table. “From now on I'm going to watch Nightingale like a hawk. Especially since . . .” Her voice trailed off.

“Since you don't think it was an accident?” Nancy asked as the girls sat down to eat.

Colleen nodded. “Something weird is definitely going on, but I have no idea what or why or who's behind it.”

Bess glanced at Nancy, then back at Colleen. “Maybe telling us what's up between you and Phil might help,” she suggested gently.

Colleen smiled. “Phil has nothing to do with Nightingale getting sick, believe me. He loves horses. That's how we met. We used to compete against each other in shows when we were younger. Then he quit riding.”

“Why did Phil quit?” Nancy asked.

“Oh, he started playing soccer, and that took up most of his time. I'd practically forgotten about Phil until I bumped into him at the mall last year. Since then we've been going out—or
trying
to, anyway.” Colleen frowned. “I spend so much time riding, preparing for shows, traveling, and helping my parents keep the farm up that our dates are pretty few and far between. It's no wonder Phil gets angry.”

“I take it he's not interested in horses anymore,” Nancy commented, reaching for a carrot stick. “Otherwise, maybe he could pitch in.”

“He does help,” Colleen said. “But you really have to give all of yourself if you want to get to the top in show jumping. Even my parents aren't as involved anymore. Your life becomes consumed by horses. Phil doesn't want that.”

Nancy nodded. Now she understood why Colleen was thinking about selling Nightingale.
“And you're not sure you want that kind of life anymore, either?”

“You guessed it.” Colleen pushed her plate away. Bess hungrily eyed her leftover half of a sandwich. Colleen laughed. “Take it, Marvin. I've suddenly lost my appetite.”

“Thanks.” Bess reached for the sandwich. “So the problem is, you don't want to sell Nightingale, but you don't want to spend so much time riding, either.”

Colleen nodded, then stood up and went over to a cookie jar on the counter. “Right.”

“Why don't you just keep your horse and ride for fun?” Bess asked.

“Because Nightingale's too talented to waste as a pleasure horse,” Colleen replied. “I also have this dream of going to medical school. But that takes big bucks and major commitment.”

“I'll say.” Bess rolled her eyes. “Couldn't your parents help out?”

“Most of their money's tied up in the farm.” Colleen set the cookie jar on the table and took off the lid.

Bess peered into the jar. “Mmm, chocolate chip. My favorite.”

“And selling Nightingale would finance school,” Nancy guessed. “Though you could postpone med school for a year or two.”

Colleen sat heavily in the chair. “It seems as if I've waited long enough. My showing schedule is
so crazy, I don't even have time to take classes. And the prize money isn't enough to cover Nightingale's expenses. She's actually costing me money. Besides, I love Phil, and I'd like to go to college with him. Campus life sounds fun.”