The Mystery of the Masked Rider (8 page)

“What's going on?”

Nancy turned and saw Bess standing in the doorway of the extra stall. Her friend's hair was tousled, and her eyes were heavy with sleep.

“Nightingale got out,” Nancy explained as she tossed a handful of grain in the mare's bucket.

“Huh?” Bess looked bewildered.

As Nancy closed the stall door, she scrutinized the latch. “Looks okay to me. And I know I checked and double-checked it last night. That means someone opened her door and deliberately let her out.”

Rubbing her eyes, Bess shook her head. “But there was nobody around.”

“Not true.” Nancy told her friend about the person wearing the cape and about Gloria Donner. “And somebody left the gate to the parking lot open, too.”

“Wow. It's good Gloria was there, or Nightingale could have bolted for the parking lot.”

Nancy paused in thought. “It was an amazing coincidence that Gloria was the only person near the open gate, and that she just happened to save Nightingale at the right time.”

“I know you're figuring something out, but you've lost me,” Bess said with a shrug.

“What if Gloria let Nightingale out, just to play the hero and save her?” Nancy mused. “Colleen might feel indebted to Gloria and definitely decide to hire her as her trainer. Gloria is obviously eager to work with Colleen and Nightingale.”

“None of what you're saying makes sense,” Bess grumbled. “Why would Gloria want to hurt Nightingale?”

“I don't know. It's confusing to me, too. Must be because it's only five
A.M.
” Nancy stifled a yawn. “I guess we both should try and get another hour of sleep. This place will be busy pretty soon.” Stepping past Bess, she went into the extra stall. “Give me a hand, will you?” She grabbed one end of her cot.

“What are you doing?” Bess asked.

“My job. I'm going to sleep in front of Nightingale's door.”

Bess helped Nancy carry the cot into the aisle. Nancy shoved the bed up against the stall door and flopped down on it.

“Now let somebody try and get her,” she announced. Ten minutes later the two girls were once again asleep.

• • •

“Nancy,” a voice called softly.

“Hmmm?” Nancy opened her eyes. Colleen was sitting on the edge of the cot, an amused tilt to her mouth.

“Boy, you sure take your job seriously!” Colleen
laughed. “I didn't mean you had to sleep
with
Nightingale.”

“Oh.” Nancy sat up and rubbed her eyes. Checking her watch, she saw that it was seven
A.M.
Up and down the aisle people and horses were moving in all directions.

Colleen held out a steaming carry-out cup of hot chocolate. “Drink up. You two must have had an exciting night to sleep through all this noise. I couldn't rouse Bess.”

Nancy snapped the top off the cup and took several sips. “Mmm. Delicious. Thanks. And you're right. We
did
have an exciting night.”

“What happened?” Colleen jumped up from the cot and peered into the stall. “Is Nightingale okay?”

“Yes. Somebody let her out, though.” Nancy told her friend everything that had happened.

“Thank goodness for Gloria,” Colleen said. Then she smacked her fist into her hand. “I knew I shouldn't have gone to that party.”

“Hey, it turned out all right,” Nancy reassured her. “Did you find out anything?”

Colleen shook her head. “I gave Marisa the mask and told her I'd found it in the aisle. She seemed genuinely puzzled, but who knows? That was some sophisticated outfit she had on,” she added, her eyes twinkling. “Then I asked her why she was riding in the Worthington Cup. She just said it was about time she started grand prix
level. Then she said, ‘Especially if I'm going to be riding Nightingale.' ” Colleen chuckled. “That kid's determined to own my horse.”

“Was anyone wearing a Zorro costume?” Nancy continued. “I saw someone running down the aisle in a black hat and cape right before I noticed that Nightingale had disappeared.”

Colleen thought for a minute. “I don't think so. But there were a lot of people there.”

“What time did the party break up?”

“I don't know. It was still going strong when Phil and I left about midnight. He dropped me off at my room, then went to his.”

“You saw him go in his room?”

“No, but I'm sure he did,” Colleen said emphatically. With a sharp look at Nancy she spun on her heels and went into the extra stall. A minute later she came out with several sections of hay. “Bess is still zonked out.”

Nancy pushed her cot out of the way. “Let me go in with you,” she said. “I want to check out the stall. Maybe there's a clue that will tell us who let your horse out last night.”

As soon as Nancy opened the stall door, Nightingale came over and snuffled her cheek in a friendly greeting.

“At least this time she wasn't hurt,” Colleen said as she walked around the mare, checking her over. “Thanks to Gloria.”

“Mmmm.” Nancy walked slowly around the stall, her gaze trained on the ground, looking for
clues. “So tell me about Gloria. How come she has to braid horses at three
A.M.
while the owners get their beauty sleep?”

Colleen sighed as she took down the hay net and started stuffing hay into it. “That's some story. Three years ago Gloria was at the top. She even won a silver medal at the 1988 Olympic Games. Then she decided to go professional and was riding for a dozen different owners. It seemed as if she was in every show. She'd fly from the West Coast to the East Coast in one week. It was crazy—she was obsessed with winning.”

“Is she like that now?” Nancy asked. Stooping down next to the stall door, she began hunting through the straw.

“No. I think she learned her lesson.” Colleen hung up the hay net, then went out to get a brush. When she returned, she went on. “Last year at the Washington International, Gloria was determined to break the indoor high-jump record. The horse she was riding was fairly young, and he fell during the jump-off.”

“Was Gloria hurt?”

Colleen nodded. “She broke her back and was in the hospital for months. But what really messed up her career was the fact that the owners of the horse had told her
not
to ride in the jump-off. Gloria didn't listen. The horse soured after his fall, and they had to start all over again with his training. The owners made a big stink about it. Nothing happened legally, but when
Gloria was well enough to ride again, no one wanted to take a chance with her.”

“Except you.”

Colleen shrugged. “That's different. She wouldn't be riding my horse. She'd be training me.”

“So what's she doing now?”

“Oh, she runs a small stable and gives clinics and lessons. Most of her students ride in hunter classes.”

“So that's why she's so eager to work with you and Nightingale,” Nancy mused.

“Yeah. It would get her into big-time jumping again.”

“Hmmm. It seems like everyone has an interesting story.”

Colleen looked puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Yesterday Scott was telling me about his horse—Hey! What's this?” Nancy peered at a fuzzy blue fiber that was caught on a splinter on the side of the stall door.

“Colleen,” Nancy said in a low voice. “Take a look at this.”

Colleen squatted next to her. Carefully Nancy pulled the fiber free and held it up for her friend to see.

“Looks like yarn,” Colleen said.

Nancy nodded. “Right. And if my hunch is correct, it's the same blue yarn that Marisa San Marcos was braiding into her horse's mane!”

“First the mask, now the yarn,” Colleen said, frowning. “I'd say that's plenty of proof that the San Marcoses are up to no good. Maybe I was wrong about them wanting Nightingale. Maybe the only thing they want is to see her out of the show.”

Nancy was ready to agree. But a little voice inside was telling her that, twice now, the physical evidence had been too easy to find. “Unless someone planted the yarn to
make
them look guilty,” Nancy said slowly.

“What are you guys doing grubbing around in the straw?” a deep voice said above them.

“Phil!” Colleen jumped to her feet. “I thought you were going to study.”

“Nah.” Phil ran his fingers through his dark hair. “Maybe I'll try after lunch.”

As Nancy slowly stood up, she casually checked Phil out. His hair was still wet from a shower, and his dark eyes were wide awake. He didn't look as though he'd been up half the night to let out the horse, but still . . .

“So what's with Sleeping Beauty?” With a grin Phil pointed into the extra stall. Bess was curled up in a tight ball, a silly smile on her face.

“I'd say she was dreaming about Prince Charming,” Nancy said with a laugh. She went in to wake up her friend while Colleen told Phil about Nightingale getting loose.

“Ummm.” Bess sat up and stretched. “I slept great.” When she saw Colleen and Phil talking in the doorway, she stopped in midstretch. “What time is it, anyway? You guys look like you've been up for hours.”

“It's eight. Time for breakfast,” Nancy told her. She looked back at Phil, trying to read his expression as Colleen finished telling him about Nightingale almost escaping through the open gate. His mouth was set in a grim line.

Colleen turned to Nancy and Bess. “You two need to get something to eat,” she urged. “Phil and I will take over. I'm going to give Nightingale a light workout, then a bath.”

“Bath.” Bess groaned. “That sounds wonderful.”

Colleen tossed Nancy the truck keys and the key to the motel room. “Your suitcases are in
two-oh-six. And don't use all the hot water,” she added with a laugh.

• • •

Three hours later Nancy was at the warm-up ring, watching Colleen school Nightingale over several of the practice jumps. A dozen ponies and their young riders were waiting by the arena gate for the next competition to begin.

Earlier, Nancy and Bess had showered, changed, and eaten a late breakfast. Bess had decided to hit the shops on the concourse again. Nancy wanted to keep her eye on Nightingale.

As Nancy watched, Nightingale trotted past and Colleen waved. The mare's chestnut coat gleamed, and her white socks sparkled. As she cantered around the ring, her ears were pricked eagerly. Her strides were so smooth and light that she seemed to be floating.

Nancy held her breath as Colleen turned Nightingale toward a high set of poles. Without hesitation, the mare boldly took off. Tucking her front legs tight against her chest, she cleared the fence by a foot.

“If she had wings, she could fly,” a voice said next to Nancy. She looked to her left. Scott Weller was beside her, astride a tall gray horse. His gaze was glued to Nightingale as the mare took two more jumps.

“Hi.” Nancy smiled. “And who's this you're riding?”

Scott patted the tall, solid gray. “This is the Stanleys' horse, Wintergreen. He's a Dutch Warmblood.” He grinned when he noticed Nancy's confusion. “That's a breed. Amsterdam isn't just famous for their tulips.”

Nancy laughed. “Wintergreen's a big guy.”

“Talented, too.” Scott affectionately whacked the gray's rump, but his brows were knotted in a frown. “He'll have to be, to beat Nightingale.”

“Are you worried?” Nancy asked, looking up at him. But Scott's attention was on Colleen and her horse. He didn't seem to hear Nancy.

“Scott?” Nancy repeated.

“Hmmm?” Scott looked back at her as if he'd just noticed she was there.

“You seem kind of worried about the class.”

“No. I guess I was off on my usual cloud—wondering what it will be like when I finally own my own horse again.”

“I take it you don't like riding for other people,” Nancy said.

Scott shrugged. “The money's good. But the owner or trainer or somebody is always telling you what to do.” Nancy saw momentary sparks of anger dance in his eyes.

Scott continued. “If I had my own horse—like Nightingale for instance—I could take her straight to the top. Colleen's a good rider, but that mare needs someone who has the drive and determination to go all the way.” His last words
were spoken in a terse voice, and Nancy noticed that Scott was again staring intently at the chestnut mare.

“And that person could be you?” she asked softly. But before Scott could answer, Colleen trotted over and dismounted.

“Whoooo. She did great!” Colleen said happily.

“She looked great, too,” Nancy said, glancing at Scott. The anger had left his face, and once more he was smiling charmingly. Nancy couldn't help but wonder what was going on in Scott's mind.

“Hey, Weller,” Phil Ackerman said in a gruff voice as he approached the group, “don't you have anything better to do than hang around my girlfriend?”

Scott shot him a look of disgust. “And don't you have anything better to do than spy on her?”

“Hey, guys,” Colleen interjected, a note of anger in her voice, “knock it off.”

Nancy stepped back to observe the three of them. Something was obviously going on that Colleen hadn't told her about. But before Nancy could think of what it might be, Marisa San Marcos rushed over.

“Colleen, Nightingale looked sensational!” the young girl exclaimed. She threw her arms around Nightingale's neck and gave the mare a squeeze. “You're going to be tough to beat in the Worthington Cup.”

“Oh, I bet you'll give me a run for my money,” Colleen said.

“Marisa!” a stern voice boomed over the exercise ring. Nancy turned to see Diego San Marcos standing in the middle of the stable entryway, holding Mr. Sunshine. He had a frown on his face. “You have work to do.”