Phantom Horse (4 page)

“Tell me about it,” Phil said with a chuckle. “I’m pretty sensitive to the number thirteen right now, but even my rabbi doesn’t mention it as often as Troy did in that story. It
was
a good story, though.”

Carole wrapped her arms tightly around herself as she listened to her friends talking about Troy’s spooky tale. For some reason she didn’t feel like joining in. The story had left her with a strange feeling, and she wasn’t quite sure what it was. She glanced around at the dark corners of the room, seeming to catch things moving just beyond the range of her eyes. Then she shook her head and smiled at herself. The spooky Halloween atmosphere must be going to her head. After all, Lisa was right. The story they had heard was just a simple, rather silly tale told by an expert storyteller. There was no such thing as a phantom horse.

Carole stood up and stretched, vowing to forget all about phantom horses with glowing red eyes and unearthly screams. “I don’t know about all of you,” she said, “but these ghost stories have made me awfully hungry. Anyone for more of those yummy pumpkin cookies?”

N
OT
LONG
AFTER
the storytelling had ended, Carole left her friends eating the last of the cookies and headed to check on her horse, Starlight. She had bedded him down earlier in the evening, but she wanted to say good night before she
left the stable. As soon as she turned the corner into the aisle leading to his stall, the tall, handsome bay stuck his head out over the half door and nickered a greeting.

“Hey there, boy,” she said softly. She hurried up to the stall, and Starlight lowered his head to snuffle her hair. She stroked his forelock, pushing it aside so that the lopsided white star on his forehead was visible. The sounds of music and laughter were faintly audible, drifting down the quiet corridor from the indoor ring. “Have you been listening to the party? Don’t feel left out. I brought you a special Halloween treat.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a bag containing a handful of carrot pieces. Holding them on her open palm, she allowed Starlight to lift each one with his soft lips.

Carole was concentrating so hard on her horse that she didn’t hear the footsteps approaching behind her. When a voice at her shoulder spoke her name, she let out a startled yelp and jumped. At the same time her hand involuntarily swung up, smacking Starlight under the chin. The gelding threw up his head and snorted in surprise.

Carole whirled around and saw Troy standing behind her. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “You scared me!”

“Sorry about that,” Troy said.

But Carole had already turned back to Starlight, who was backing away into the corner of his stall. The whites of his eyes were showing, and he was tossing his head. The orange party lights were reflected in his eyes, giving him an eerie
look. She talked soothingly to him, trying to coax him forward again.

“Better to let him alone for a few minutes,” Troy advised, stepping forward to peer into the stall. “Looks like you spooked him, whacking him in the jaw like that.”

Carole bit her lip to keep from responding angrily. Troy made it sound as if Carole had hit Starlight intentionally when it was Troy’s fault for sneaking up on her. “Don’t worry,” she said coldly. “I know my horse. He’ll be okay.”

“Whatever you say,” Troy said. He glanced at the name-plate on the stall. “Starlight, hmm? He’s a beauty.”

Immediately Carole relaxed. If there was one thing she couldn’t resist, it was praise of her horse. “I know,” she said. “I’m lucky to have him. He’s really terrific.”

Troy glanced at her with a crooked smile. “You sound pretty sure about that,” he said. “Weren’t you listening to my story earlier? You never can tell about things, you know. For all you know, sweet Starlight could have a demon inside him.”

Carole was pretty sure Troy was making a joke, but she didn’t think it was funny. Remembering the spooky story about the phantom horse made her shiver.

“If you think about it,” Troy continued thoughtfully, still smiling slightly, “it’s an odd coincidence about his name. Starlight … Moonshine … they’re pretty similar. And your horse is a bay with an unusual white patch on his forehead.
Moonshine was a bay with a white sickle on his forehead. It kind of makes you wonder.” He gestured at the gelding, who was standing in the corner of the stall eyeing them warily.

“I think I might have an easier time calming him down if I were alone,” she said pointedly. She knew she wasn’t being very polite, but she didn’t care. She’d had enough of Troy and his scary tales for one evening.

Troy took the hint. “All right, I’m going home. It looks like the party’s breaking up, anyway. See you around.” He strode off down the aisle toward the tack room, whistling as he went.

By the time Lisa, Stevie, and Phil found Carole a short while later, Starlight’s frightened mood had passed. He had allowed Carole to coax him to the front of the stall again, and he was crunching on the last of the carrot pieces.

“Hi, Carole,” Lisa said. “Are you almost ready to go?”

“I’m ready,” Carole said. After giving Starlight one last pat, she headed down the aisle with her friends. She had just started to tell them about her encounter with Troy when they heard a shriek from the direction of the student locker room.

“That sounded like Betsy,” Lisa said. “Let’s go see what happened.”

When The Saddle Club reached the locker room, they saw Betsy Cavanaugh sitting on the floor in front of her cubby, her things spread out all around her.

“It’s gone!” she was exclaiming, looking angry. “I can’t believe it. Someone stole it!”

“What happened? What’s gone?” Stevie asked, pushing her way to the front of the small crowd that had gathered around Betsy.

“My gold bangle bracelet,” Betsy said. “It was in here before the party. I set it right on top of my jacket so it wouldn’t fall down with the other stuff and get lost. But now it’s gone.”

“Are you sure it’s not in your cubby somewhere?” Adam Levine asked.

“I’m sure,” Betsy replied. “Somebody get Max.”

A few minutes later Max was there, looking concerned. “Did you check your cubby carefully, Betsy?” he asked. “And behind it, too? Sometimes things fall back there.”

“I checked,” Betsy said impatiently. “It’s gone.”

“Well, maybe somebody who already left picked it up accidentally,” Max said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “I’ll make an announcement at the next lesson if it hasn’t turned up by then. I’m not sure what else to do. I’m sorry, Betsy.”

Betsy frowned but said nothing as she began putting things back into her cubby.

“In the meantime, it looks like the party is over,” Max said to the group. “Why don’t you all keep an eye out for Betsy’s bracelet while you pack up?”

Lisa and Carole sat down together on the bench in front of their cubbies, leaving Stevie and Phil talking to Betsy, who
still looked annoyed. “Do you think someone really stole Betsy’s bracelet?” Carole asked as she pulled on her jacket.

“I doubt it,” Lisa said, leaning forward and reaching into her cubby. “This is Pine Hollow. Who here would steal …?” Her voice trailed off.

Carole glanced at her friend. “What’s the matter?”

“My book,” Lisa said with a frown. “I left it sitting on top of my purse, but it’s not there anymore.”

Carole’s eyes widened. “Really? Are you sure that’s where you left it?”

“Positive,” Lisa said. “I put it where I couldn’t possibly forget it because I couldn’t wait to get back to reading it. I didn’t want to leave it here by accident and have to wait until tomorrow to find out what happens next.”

Stevie and Phil walked over at that moment. “What’s going on?” Stevie asked, noticing Lisa’s puzzled expression.

“Lisa’s book is missing,” Carole said.

Stevie’s eyes widened. “First Betsy’s bracelet, now your book? It looks like we’ve got a thief at Pine Hollow!”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” Carole said. “Just because a couple of things are missing doesn’t mean they were stolen.”

Just then they heard an outraged shriek from the other end of the room. It was Veronica, and she was holding up one brown suede glove. “All right, what’s the big idea?” she exclaimed to the room at large. “Who took my other glove?”

Stevie glanced over at Veronica, then raised one eyebrow
as she turned back to her friends. “What else could it mean?” she demanded. “Things don’t just get up and walk away by themselves.”

“Not even on Halloween,” Phil put in with a smile.

“This isn’t funny,” Stevie told him. “We have to find out who took this stuff. Otherwise none of us is safe.”

“Don’t get carried away yet, Stevie,” Lisa said. “Veronica loses things all the time. And I’m not one hundred percent sure yet that my book is really missing. Let me look around a little bit first.”

“Maybe the book fell out of your cubby and someone picked it up,” Carole suggested. “I’ll go ask Max if anyone turned it in.”

She found Max in his office. He smiled when he saw her. But as soon as she explained why she was there, his smile turned into a frown. “Are you sure the book is really missing?”

“Lisa’s still looking for it,” Carole said. “But it seems to be gone. Didn’t anybody turn it in?”

“No,” Max replied. “Come on, let’s go see if it’s turned up.” Without another word he strode toward the locker room. Carole shrugged and followed.

As soon as Stevie saw Carole and Max come in, she hurried over to them, her face grim. “All right, this has gone too far,” she announced. “There’s a thief at Pine Hollow, all right. And whoever it is has no shame. Phil’s yarmulke is missing!”

“I
STILL
CAN
’
T
BELIEVE
someone at Pine Hollow is a thief,” Stevie said. It was the next day, and Stevie, Carole, and Lisa were getting ready to go on a trail ride.

“I still can’t believe someone took my book,” Lisa grumbled as she led Prancer, the pretty Thoroughbred mare she usually rode, toward the door. “Now I might never find out what happens.”

Carole mounted Starlight. Then she paused to touch the good-luck horseshoe hanging on the stable wall. No rider had ever been seriously hurt after touching the horseshoe, so it was a stable tradition to do so before every ride. “It’s a shame about your book, Lisa. But you have to admit, it’s pretty terrible that Phil lost his special yarmulke.”

“I know,” Lisa said as she led Prancer toward the mounting block. “That’s really much worse. It’s hard to imagine what kind of person would steal an important religious object like that. Who do you think it could have been?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to find out,” Stevie said. The three girls turned their horses and started across the broad fields behind Pine Hollow. They rode three abreast so that they could talk more easily.

“How are you planning to do that?” Lisa asked, sounding skeptical.

“You mean how are
we
planning to do that,” Stevie corrected her. “And the answer is I’m not sure yet. But this sounds like a Saddle Club project. After all, you were one of the victims, and you’re a Saddle Club member. Also, Phil’s a member, remember?”

“Say that three times fast,” Lisa said. At Stevie’s blank look, she said, “ ‘Member, remember,’ get it?”

“Never mind that,” Stevie said crisply. “Let’s get down to work. Who are our suspects? Carole?”

Carole shrugged. “I can’t think of anybody.”

Stevie frowned. “Lisa?”

“I don’t know. It’s hard to believe that anyone at Pine Hollow could be a thief,” Lisa said, pulling up Prancer slightly to keep her from moving ahead of the other horses. As a former racehorse, the mare tended to be competitive, even on trail rides. “I mean, we know everyone pretty well.”

Stevie raised an eyebrow. “We
think
we know them well.
But obviously there’s at least one person we don’t know as well as we thought.”

Stevie’s comment reminded Carole of the story of the phantom horse, as well as Troy’s later comments. Was it really possible to
think
you knew someone when you actually didn’t know him or her at all? Carole knew that people weren’t always what they seemed. Could the same be true of horses? She didn’t think so. Still, it was a frightening thought.

“We can’t discount anyone as a suspect,” Stevie went on. “We have to consider all the possibilities.”

Lisa rolled her eyes. “Right. So what you’re saying is, maybe Max is the thief. Or were you thinking of Mrs. Reg?”

“Don’t be silly,” Stevie said. “Come on, get serious and help me figure out who did it.”

“I can’t even figure out
why
someone would have done it,” Lisa protested. “If you think about it, it’s pretty strange. Why would someone steal my book, which is hardly worth anything, when my purse was sitting right under it? I had a ten-dollar bill in there that wasn’t touched. And why would someone choose Phil’s yarmulke over the tallith, which looks much more valuable?”

“Maybe the thief didn’t have time to comparison shop,” Stevie said. They had just reached the edge of a field, and she brought her horse, Belle, to a stop and leaned over to unlatch the gate. “Maybe he just took whatever was handy and ran for it.”