Phantom Horse

“It all started long, long ago. Don’t ask me when, because I don’t know. But it was long before my grandparents were born, or their grandparents before them. It’s the story of the phantom horse. Now, I call it a horse, but it isn’t really a horse—it’s an evil spirit that takes over the body of a horse. It always chooses a horse that belongs to someone who loves it and trusts it. Once it has possessed the horse, the phantom is out for blood. To this day it’s roaming the earth looking for its next victim …”

“B
OO
!”
SHOUTED
S
TEVIE
L
AKE
.

Her boyfriend, Phil Marsten, turned around and grinned. “Eeek,” he said calmly.

Stevie stuck out her tongue and plunked down next to him. He was sitting on a hay bale in the indoor ring at Pine Hollow Stables, where Stevie took riding lessons. It was Halloween, and the owner of Pine Hollow was throwing a party for his young riders. Max Regnery was a strict stable owner and an even stricter riding instructor, but he also believed in having a good time, and that was what this party was all about. Strings of festive red-orange lights were strung around the ceiling, cutouts of bats and black cats decorated the walls, and a large, well-stocked refreshment table stood
at one end of the ring. Best of all, the students were allowed to invite friends, so Stevie had invited Phil, who lived in another town and rode at a different stable.

“Where did Carole and Lisa go?” Stevie asked as she handed Phil the paper cup of punch she had brought him. Carole Hanson and Lisa Atwood, who also rode at Pine Hollow, were Stevie’s two best friends.

Phil shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. He took Stevie’s hand and gazed into her eyes. “Who cares? Wouldn’t you rather be alone with me anyway?”

Stevie looked back at him suspiciously. “All right, what do you three have planned? Ghosts and goblins? Shrieks in the night? Or just a good old-fashioned—” She whirled around just in time to catch Carole and Lisa sneaking up behind her.

“Boo!” all three girls yelled at once.

Carole and Lisa burst out laughing. “We should know better than to try to beat her at her own game,” Lisa said.

“It was worth a try,” Carole replied, sitting down cross-legged on the floor at Stevie’s feet. “It wouldn’t be Halloween without a few tricks to go with the treats.” She took a big bite out of the pumpkin-shaped cookie she was holding.

“True,” Stevie said. “Although it will be a cold day in July before you guys can out-trick me.”

Carole and Lisa grinned. Stevie’s mischievous nature was one of the things her friends loved best about her. The three girls were such good friends that they had started The Saddle
Club. The group had only two rules: Members had to be horse-crazy, and they had to be willing to help one another whenever necessary. Stevie, Carole, and Lisa were the three main members of The Saddle Club, but there were also several out-of-town members, including Phil and his best friend, A.J.

Phil nudged Stevie with his elbow. “Hey, who’s that guy?” he asked, staring at someone across the room.

Stevie followed Phil’s gaze to a tall, thin young man dressed in black jeans and a leather motorcycle jacket. His brown hair was cropped almost as short as the stubble that dotted his jaw, and the overhead lights caught a flash of silver at his ear.

“That’s Troy,” Stevie said.

At Phil’s confused look, Lisa explained. “His name’s Troy Lasker. He’s a college student who’s taking the semester off to earn some money. Max just took him on as a temporary groom.”

“That guy’s a groom?” Phil asked in surprise.

“He doesn’t exactly look like your typical groom, does he?” said Stevie. “If you get a chance, check out his ear. He’s got three earrings in it, and one of them is shaped like a skull and crossbones.”

“He may not look like a groom, but he is one,” Carole reminded them. “Max wouldn’t have hired him if he wasn’t qualified. And he really seems to know what he’s doing around the horses.” That was such a Carole-like comment
that her friends couldn’t help but smile. Of the three horse-crazy members of The Saddle Club, Carole was the horse-craziest. She already knew she wanted to spend her life working with horses, although she hadn’t decided yet what her exact career would be. Trainer, rider, stable manager, veterinarian—they all sounded exciting to her. Luckily she still had plenty of time to make up her mind.

As Troy strolled across the ring, a raggedy-looking brown-and-white mutt trotted along behind him. Stevie pointed the dog out to Phil. “That’s Princess,” she said. “She worships Troy. She follows him everywhere he goes.”

“When she’s not sleeping, that is,” Lisa said. “I almost tripped over her the other day in the tack room. She’d decided to take a nap right inside the door.”

“Hey, don’t look now,” Carole said, “but we’re not the only ones paying attention to Troy. Veronica must have decided she likes older men this week.”

The others looked where Carole was pointing and saw Veronica diAngelo hurrying toward Troy. Veronica was their least favorite person at Pine Hollow. She was a good rider and she owned a gorgeous horse named Danny, but those were her only positive qualities as far as The Saddle Club could see. Veronica was a snobby, spoiled rich girl who always wore expensive clothes. Her family lived in a huge house with tennis courts and a swimming pool, and she loved to brag about all the servants they had. She often seemed to think that Max’s head stable hand, Red
O’Malley, was on her personal payroll, and she usually made him take care of Danny for her.

“Disgusting,” Stevie declared, watching as Veronica walked over to Troy, smiling and batting her eyelashes. “Now that all the boys at Pine Hollow—not to mention all the boys at school—have realized what a rat she is, she has to go searching for some fresh blood.”

“Never mind,” Lisa said. “It doesn’t look like Troy is interested.” As The Saddle Club watched, Troy gave Veronica a polite little smile, then turned and walked away without a backward glance. Princess slunk after him. Veronica watched Troy go with a pout on her face, then whirled and stomped off in the other direction.

Carole giggled. “It looks like Troy smelled a rat.”

“I guess that makes him pretty normal after all,” Phil said. “Even if he does look a little unusual.”

“Speaking of looks, I just realized who Troy reminds me of,” Lisa said. “It’s this character in the book I’m reading.”

“You mean that mystery novel you’ve been carrying around for the past three days?” Stevie asked.

Lisa nodded. “
Murder at Teatime
by Ernestine Collier. It’s set in England, and it’s really good. There’s a character in it who looks just like Troy—I mean, that’s how he’s described. And he’s really quiet and keeps to himself, just like Troy. The heroine, Camille, thinks he may be the murderer.”

“Is he?” Stevie asked.

Lisa shrugged. “I don’t know yet. I’m only a little over
halfway through. I haven’t had much time to read this week, but I’m hoping to finish it later tonight. I can’t wait—I stopped at a really exciting part.”

“Well, Troy may dress oddly, but I think it’s pretty safe to say he’s probably not a murderer,” Carole said. She leaned back against the hay bale and looked around at the people enjoying themselves. “This is a great party,” she added.

“If you think this is a great party, just wait until you see what my parents have planned for next week,” Phil said with a smile. “You’re all still coming, aren’t you?”

“Of course we are. We can’t wait,” Stevie answered for all of them. “None of us has ever been to a bar mitzvah before.” Phil was Jewish. He had recently turned thirteen, and that meant it was time for the religious ceremony in which he would officially become an adult member of his synagogue and of the Jewish community.

“What kind of party will it be?” Carole asked curiously.

“Well, it won’t be exactly like this one, although there will be lots to eat and drink and plenty of people having fun,” Phil said. “There will be more older people—all my relatives, and my parents’ friends, and people from my synagogue.”

Lisa knew that a synagogue was where Jewish prayer services were held, but that was all she knew. “What about the service?” she asked, shifting to a more comfortable position on the sawdust-covered floor. “That comes first, right?”

“Right,” said Phil. “It’s actually just the usual Saturday-morning
service, but I’ll get to read from the Torah and then chant the haftarah. Then I give a speech about what I’ve read—sort of like a preacher’s sermon.” The girls knew that although Phil’s mother was Jewish, his father was Christian. That meant that even though Phil considered himself Jewish, he knew a lot about his father’s religion, too.

Carole looked confused. “I understand the sermon part, but what’s a hava—haffto—”

“Haftarah,” Phil corrected with a smile. “It’s a passage from the words of the Prophets in the Torah.”