Mystery of the Midnight Rider by Carolyn Keene
“I wonder if that’s exactly why someone started the rumor about her drugging her horses,” I said. “Maybe one of her competitors is trying to get an edge any way they can.”
“Would somebody really do that?” George said dubiously. “For a horse show?”
“Some of these shows can pay pretty decent prize money,” Ned said. “Payton’s father used to grumble about all the money he spent on Payton’s riding until she started winning jumper classes. That shut him up pronto.”
“Really? Then maybe it really was—ooh! That was close!” I interrupted myself as one of Payton’s horse’s hooves clunked against the fence he was jumping.
“It’s okay,” Bess said. “The rail didn’t come down. I’m pretty sure that means no penalties.”
We all stayed silent as we watched the rest of the round. None of the other rails came down either. When Payton brought her horse down to a trot after the last fence, I heard a loud whoop. Glancing toward the gate, I saw Dana at the rail pumping her fist.
“Maybe that’ll put Payton’s trainer in a better mood,” I quipped.
“I know, right?” George made a face. “I thought Payton seemed a little intense until Trainer Frowny Face came along.”
The crackle of the loudspeaker prevented any further comment from the rest of us. “That was Payton Evans with a clear round,” the announcer said. “Which puts her in first place.”
A loud curse came from nearby. Glancing that way, I saw a short, lean man in his thirties kicking at a fence post with a scowl on his face. He was dressed in breeches and a polo shirt and had a riding crop tucked into the top of one tall boot.
My friends saw him too. “Looks like somebody’s not happy that Payton did so well,” George murmured.
“Yeah,” Bess added quietly. “I’m guessing he’s one of the ones who didn’t have a clear round.”
“He’s not the only one who doesn’t look thrilled.” I’d just spotted Jessica, the girl who’d almost run her horse into Payton’s earlier. She was riding toward the in-gate to start her round. But instead of focusing on her horse or the jumps, she was glaring at Payton.
“Come on, let’s go congratulate Payton.” Ned got up and hurried to meet Payton as she rode out of the gate.
The rest of us followed, arriving just as Payton slid down from the saddle beside Dana. “That was great!” I said. “We had a lot of fun watching you own that course.”
“Thanks.” Payton gave the horse a pat, then ran up her left stirrup. “He was really amazing, wasn’t he?”
Dana grabbed the reins and pulled them over the horse’s head, leading him off almost before Payton could finish with the other stirrup. “Listen, you almost ate it at that yellow oxer,” she told Payton. “Looked like you took your leg off. I told you a million times you can’t do that, especially with this horse.”
“Yeah, sorry about that.” Payton didn’t argue. “I’ll remember from now on.”
“You got away with it this time, but you won’t at Grand Prix heights.” Dana frowned. “You have to stay focused!”
I couldn’t help wincing. The trainer’s voice was awfully loud, and people were turning to stare curiously at her and Payton. But Payton didn’t seem to notice. She was nodding thoughtfully as Dana went on to detail every mistake Payton had made during the round.
“Wow,” George whispered in my ear. “And here I thought she just put herself into first place! You’d never know it listening to the Dana of Doom.”
Finally Dana’s cell phone chimed, interrupting her monologue. “I’ve got to go,” she said abruptly, glancing at the screen. “They need me over at the pony ring. I’ll meet you later to talk about your next class.” She tossed the horse’s reins at Payton and rushed off without waiting for a reply.
My friends and I caught up to Payton. “So when do you find out if you won?” Ned asked her.
“Will there be a jump-off if someone else goes clear?” George added. “Those are fun to watch on TV.”
“There’s no jump-off in this particular class.” Payton unbuckled the chin strap of her riding helmet as she led the horse along the path leading to the barns. “So I just have to wait until everyone goes to find out the final placings.”
George looked disappointed. “No jump-off?”
“Nope, sorry.” Payton smiled. “But don’t worry, there will probably be one in the Grand Prix if you come to watch that. And some of the other jumper classes too.”
“Cool.” George immediately looked happier.
“Anyway, like I was saying before, we’re all really impressed with how you did just now.” I gave George a sidelong look. “Jump-off or no jump-off.”
“Yeah,” Bess said. “Especially considering that upsetting news you got right before you started.”
Payton shrugged. “I learned back when I was still riding ponies that I can’t let anything distract me when I’m in the ring. I just need to focus and get the job done, no matter what.” She cracked a wry smile. “My dad calls it the Evans Edge.”
“The Evans Edge?” George grinned. “Love it! But now I need a motto like that of my own.” She thought for a second. “How about the Fayne Fierceness?” She struck a pose like an action hero.
“More like the Fayne Fail,” Bess said.
Ned and I laughed while George shot her cousin a disgruntled look. “That’s still better than the Marvin Misery.”
We spent the rest of the walk inventing insulting names for one another. As soon as we arrived at the barn, though, we forgot all about that. There was too much to see. Horses were hanging their heads out over their stalls doors. Riders hurried here and there. Farther down the aisle, a farrier was tapping nails into the shoe of a patient horse.
As we headed down the aisle the opposite way, a young woman appeared. She was dressed in jeans and short boots, with a rag tucked into one back pocket and a hoof pick sticking out of the other. Her hair was a mess, and there was a big greenish smudge on the front of her T-shirt.
“Sorry I didn’t get up to the ring to meet you, Payton,” she said breathlessly. “I’ll take him now.”
“Thanks, Jen.” Payton handed the reins to the woman, who cooed at the horse as she led him away.
“Who’s that?” George asked as Jen and the horse disappeared around a corner. “Your personal servant? Must be nice.”
Payton laughed. “Not mine—the horse’s,” she said. “Jen is a groom. It’s her job to help take care of the horses. A big, busy barn like Dana’s couldn’t survive without a team of great grooms.” She patted a horse that was sticking its nose out over the nearest stall. “So would you guys like to meet my horses?”
“Sure, we’d love to!” Bess said. “How many do you have?”
“Nine, but only four are at this show.” Payton headed down the aisle, with the rest of us following. “The rest are either youngsters or taking a break.”
“Nine horses? Wow.” George whistled. “And here I thought it was hard work taking care of my family’s dog!”
Payton laughed. “Luckily, I don’t have to take care of them all myself. Most of my horses live at Dana’s barn, where her amazing staff does all the hard work. All I need to do is show up and ride.” She stopped in front of a stall where a copper-colored chestnut with a blaze was nosing at a pile of hay. “Here’s one of my guys now. . . .”
She went on to show us a couple of more horses. “So which one are you riding in the Grand Prix?” Bess asked as she patted a pretty gray mare.
Payton smiled. “I was just about to introduce you to that one. Come on, let’s go see Midnight.”
We followed her to yet another stall. Inside stood a tall, impressive-looking dark bay without a speck of white on him anywhere. A weather-beaten man with slicked-back dark hair was running a brush down the horse’s long legs.
“This is Mickey,” Payton said, gesturing toward the man. “He’s Midnight’s groom.” She introduced us, though Mickey hardly looked up from his task.
“Midnight is
“Yeah, and he knows it!” Payton laughed. “He’s quite a character. Hope he didn’t get you too gross.”
“No biggie,” Bess said with a smile, reaching into her purse for a tissue. That’s one of the good things about Bess. She might look all girly and delicate, but it takes more than a little horse snot to faze her!
Payton turned to Mickey. “I was thinking of taking him out for some hand grazing, if that’s okay.”
Mickey just nodded, reaching for the halter hanging just outside the stall door and quickly buckling it onto the horse’s big head. Then Payton clipped a lead line to Midnight’s halter and led him out.
“Wow, he looks even bigger out here,” George commented.
“I guess a bigger horse must make those Grand Prix jumps look smaller, huh?” I joked.
Payton chuckled. “It doesn’t hurt,” she agreed. “Do you guys want to tag along while I graze him?” She reached into her pocket and held her hand up to the horse’s muzzle. I wasn’t close enough to see what she’d pulled out, but whatever it was, the horse slurped it up eagerly and then nuzzled her for more.
“What do you feed a horse like Midnight?” I asked. “Treats, I mean—like you just gave him.”
“My horses love all kinds of treats.” Payton gave a light tug on the lead to get Midnight moving. “Most of them aren’t too picky—they’ll eat carrots, apples, mints, whatever. One or two are more particular, but most horses have at least one or two favorite snacks.”
“Just like people, huh?” Ned said.
We left the barn and headed over to a grassy area near the fence separating the fairgrounds from the parking lot. The bright sunlight bounced off the bumpers and mirrors of the many cars parked out there, and Midnight snorted and danced in place at first as he took it all in. But he settled quickly, lowering his head and nibbling at the grass.
I glanced at Payton. She was watching her horse, a contented expression on her face. I hated to ruin her mood, but I was curious about what had happened earlier.
“So that drugging thing was weird,” I said. “What do you think that’s all about?”
Payton’s expression darkened. “I don’t know. But it’s not true.”
“Nancy knows that,” Ned put in quickly. “I already explained that you’re not that kind of person.”
Before Payton could say anything else, there was a buzz from the pocket of her breeches. “That’s my phone,” she said, fishing it out. “Dad’s right on schedule. . . . Hi, Dad.”
My friends and I drifted away to give her some privacy. “What’s with the questioning, Detective Drew?” George joked. “You think Payton has some kind of deep, dark mystery that needs solving?”
I grinned. Like I said, my friends like to rib me about my interest in mysteries. “You never know,” I said. “Maybe it’s like we were saying before—someone could be trying to knock out the competition to improve their odds of winning the big-money classes.”
“Or maybe it’s a mistake,” Ned said. “I doubt Payton would be mixed up in anything nefarious, even secondhand.” He shrugged. “Sorry, Nancy. You might be stuck just watching a horse show this weekend instead of solving another mystery.”
“Yeah,” Bess put in. “And she might be stuck just watching a horse show instead of doing something romantic for her anniversary, too.”
We were all still laughing about that when Payton wandered over to us, tucking away her phone with one hand while hanging on to Midnight’s lead with the other.
“That was my dad,” she said. “He likes to check in after each of my rounds to see how it went.”
“Really?” George looked impressed. “He keeps that close tabs on your show schedule? I mean, you only finished riding, like, twenty minutes ago. How’d he know he wasn’t going to call while you were in the air over a big fence?”
Payton laughed. “Don’t worry, I turn off my phone while I’m in the ring. But to answer your question, Dad has an app on his phone with a timer that keeps track for him.” She tugged on Midnight’s lead to keep him from wandering too close to the fence. “His job is so busy that that’s probably the only way he could keep track short of hiring an extra employee just to keep track of my show schedule.”
“You sound like you’re only half joking about that extra employee thing,” Ned said.
“You know Dad,” Payton said. “He’s pretty serious about results—he doesn’t like to miss a detail.”
Between her father, her trainer, and herself, I couldn’t help thinking that Payton was under a lot of pressure to perform well at these shows. Still, she seemed to be handling it awfully well, especially for someone her age.
Midnight took a couple of bites of grass, then lifted his head and stepped toward the parking lot fence again. Payton didn’t let him get too close, once again pulling him back with the lead.
“Looks like Midnight must believe that old line,” I said. “You know, the one about the grass being greener on the other side?”
“He wouldn’t actually try to escape out into the parking lot or anything, would he?” George eyed the horse nervously. “I mean, I know there’s a fence, but . . .”
Payton laughed. “Are you kidding? Midnight could clear that tiny fence in his sleep.” Her eyes twinkled. “But don’t worry—there’s no grass out in the parking lot. He definitely wouldn’t be interested in going out there when he–”
She cut herself off with a gasp as something suddenly flew at the horse out of nowhere. SPLAT! Whatever it was hit Midnight, leaving a huge red mark on his side.
With a terrified cry, the horse yanked the lead out of Payton’s hand, reared up, and spun away.
CHAPTER THREE
Food for Thought
“MIDNIGHT!” PAYTON CRIED.
“Loose horse!” Bess shrieked.
Midnight stopped, his hooves splayed out and his big brown eyes rolling. He snorted, then spun around as a shout came from out in the parking lot.
Ignoring the shout, I focused on the horse. “Easy, boy,” I crooned, trying desperately to remember what to do about a loose horse. Had we even learned that in those childhood lessons? Doubtful. Most of the ponies I’d ridden wouldn’t move out of a slow walk for anything short of a meteor landing behind them.
Luckily, Payton recovered quickly from her surprise. “Just stay where you are, everybody,” she said in a calm but commanding voice. Then she stepped toward the horse. “Settle down, Midnight. It’s okay.”
Midnight snorted again, tossing his head and prancing in place. I held my breath as Payton took another step. “What if he jumps the fence like she was saying?” George whispered. “He could be halfway across River Heights before we could take three steps after him!”
“Shh,” I hushed her. “He’s not running amok yet. Let’s see what happens.”
“Good boy, good boy,” Payton singsonged as she sidled closer. “Easy now . . .”
She took another step. The horse tensed, but then he lowered his head and blew out a sigh. Payton caught hold of the lead rope dangling from Midnight’s halter and gave him a pat.
“Is he hurt?” Ned asked. “What hit him, anyway?”
Good question. I glanced out at the parking lot, wondering about the source of that shout. Several people were milling around over near the entrance. A couple of them were holding signs, though I couldn’t read them from where I was standing.
Meanwhile Payton stepped around to examine the bloody-looking mark on the horse’s side. She almost immediately heaved a big sigh of relief.
“It’s okay—he’s not hurt. It was just a tomato,” she reported. “An overripe one, from the smell of it.”
“Yuck,” Bess said. “Who would throw something like that at a horse?”
“I think I know.” One of the people out in the parking lot had turned, giving me a better view of her
George turned to look. “Ugh, PAN? I’ve heard about them,” she said. “They let some goats and sheep loose at the state fair last summer. Caused all kinds of problems.”
“Yeah, I heard about that.” Bess shook her head. “I love animals as much as the next girl, and I hate to think of them being mistreated. But PAN definitely takes things too far.”
I knew what she meant. PAN—short for Pet-Free Animal Nation—was a national group that advocated an end to “animal slavery,” which they interpreted as everything from using animals for scientific testing to “forcing” cats and dogs to serve as family pets. They were notorious for showing up at events like livestock auctions or dog shows and causing trouble. As a local attorney, my father had helped prosecute them the last time they’d passed through our part of the country. Now it seemed they were back for more.
“Wait,” I said as I glanced out at the protesters again and spotted a familiar face. “I think I recognize one of them. Isn’t that the lady who got all that publicity last year when she tried to save that half-rotted old tree behind the elementary school? What’s her name again?” I searched my memory. “Annie something, right?”
“Annie Molina,” Ned supplied. “I remember her. She was in the paper last month for stopping traffic to protest the new housing development out by the river.”
Payton wasn’t paying attention to our conversation. She was busy talking soothingly to Midnight, who still seemed tense and jumpy. “I’d better get Midnight back to the barn,” she said. “If anyone throws something else our way right now, he just might lose it.”
“We’ll come with you,” Bess said.
George glanced out at the group in the parking lot. “Shouldn’t someone report what happened to show security or something?”
“Good idea,” I said. “There were some security guards hanging out near the entrance where we came in, remember?”
Ned nodded. “I’m on it. I’ll meet you back at Payton’s barn.”