The Mystery of the Masked Rider (7 page)

“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 horse 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!

Nancy's mind raced as she grabbed a lead line and dashed down the aisle the way the costumed figure had gone. Frantically she hunted right and left for Nightingale. Had Colleen arrived early to exercise her? Or had the figure in black stolen the valuable mare?

At the intersection Nancy stopped, held her breath, and listened. The stable was quiet. Suddenly, a low nicker and answering whinny came from the left. Then Nancy heard the
clip-clop
of hooves once again. It had to be Nightingale.

Nancy took off down the aisle, screeching to a halt at the second T. With a gasp of relief she saw Nightingale ambling in the opposite direction. There was no sign of the costumed person. When the mare stopped to poke her head into a stall, Nancy approached her, hand extended, palm flat as if she had a treat.

“Whoa, girl,” she crooned. “Whoa, Nightingale.”

The mare turned her head and eyed Nancy curiously. Then Nancy looked beyond Nightingale and noticed the bluish glow of the parking lot lights. Someone had left the metal gate wide open.

Nancy's heart quickened. She had to catch Nightingale before the mare panicked and dashed for freedom!

“Look what I've got for you,” Nancy said, still holding out her empty hand. Slowly she walked toward the mare. “It's really nothing, but if you let me catch you I promise we'll go back to your cozy stall, and I'll give you a bucket of grain. How does that sound?”

Nightingale pricked her ears. Nancy held her breath. Three more steps and she'd be able to grab the mare's halter.

Just when she was almost close enough to grasp the leather strap, a loud clang made Nancy jump. Nightingale threw her head up and wheeled around, then raced for the open gate.

“Whoa, Nightingale!” Nancy cried, but it was too late. The gate was only fifteen feet ahead, and the mare wasn't going to stop.

Suddenly a stocky figure leapt from a stall doorway and, holding up its arms, hollered, “Whoa!” Surprised, Nightingale slid to a halt. The split-second stop was all the person needed to reach up and grab the side of the mare's halter.

Nightingale reared and started to scramble backward, but the person held tight. Nancy ran up and quickly snapped on the lead line. When she turned, she could see that the person was a woman with close-cropped hair.

“Thanks,” Nancy managed to gasp before Nightingale, still excited, snorted and pranced sideways. Reaching up, Nancy ran a soothing hand down the horse's sweaty neck. “Easy girl,” she said. “You're all right.”

“You and your horse doing a little sleepwalking?” the woman asked when Nightingale had finally calmed down.

“Uh, no,” Nancy stammered. “I'm afraid she got out.”

The woman raised one eyebrow. “Better be more careful next time,” she said gruffly. Then, noticing Nancy's flush of embarrassment, she added, “Accidents happen to everyone. I should know.”

Nancy wondered what the woman meant. “Well, thanks again. I don't know who left the gate open.” Nancy nodded toward the end of the aisle. “Did you see anyone around?”

“Nope. I was back in the corner of the stall, braiding a horse's tail. Besides, people don't usually get here until six or later.” The woman strode over and swung the gate shut. She had an athletic build and wore a down vest and paddock boots. Her face was deeply tanned, and squint
lines fanned out from her eyes, as if she spent a lot of time outdoors.

“Whoever left that gate open ought to be more careful,” the woman declared in a no-nonsense voice. “Your horse could have gotten onto the highway. It's a good thing I heard you holler. But I know I shut the gate an hour ago when I came in.”

Nancy straightened in surprise. “You got here that early?”

The woman nodded. “Of course. When you've got five horses to groom and braid before they compete at eight in the morning, you don't get much sleep.”

“You're going to ride five horses?”

She laughed. “No. The three spoiled girls I work with are riding them. Only they partied all night and won't bother getting up until the last minute.”

The woman gave Nightingale a curious look, then glanced back at Nancy. “Isn't that Colleen Healey's mare?”

Nancy nodded. “Right. I'm helping Colleen. My name's Nancy Drew.”

The woman stuck out a hand and shook Nancy's with a firm grip. “Gloria Donner.”

“Gloria Donner?” Nancy's brows shot up. She remembered Colleen telling her about taking lessons from someone named Gloria Donner. “You're a trainer, right?”

“That's me. And boy, would I love to work more with Colleen and Nightingale.” She patted the mare's neck with solid slaps. “This here's one talented animal.”

“I know. But if I don't get her back in her stall, she'll be one talented, sleepy animal,” Nancy said. “Nice meeting you, Gloria.”

“Likewise. And you tell Colleen I'll be around to see her.”

Nancy waved and started down the aisle with Nightingale. When she turned right, she saw an overturned metal bucket in the middle of the concrete floor. That was what must have made the clang, Nancy thought. Had someone deliberately dropped it to scare Nightingale?

Nancy turned the bucket over with her foot. It was an ordinary bucket with no clues as to whom it belonged to.

Instead of going back to the stall, Nancy led Nightingale up and down each aisle, looking for signs of the costumed person. There were several kids sacked out on cots and in sleeping bags, but no one she recognized. When she went past the San Marcoses' stalls, everything was dark and quiet.

That didn't mean anything, Nancy decided. Anyone could have sneaked in and out of the stable—Phil, Marisa, Diego. She'd have to ask Colleen if she remembered a black-caped costume at the party. It was just too bad Gloria hadn't seen the person who left the gate open.

With a sigh Nancy walked Nightingale back to her own stall. The mare walked in and immediately stuck her nose in her empty feed tub.

“All right, piggie.” Nancy laughed. “I guess you deserve a treat.”