Mystery of the Midnight Rider Read online

  As he headed off toward the main gate, the rest of us accompanied Payton and Midnight toward the barn. When we got there, Dana was waiting.

  “Payton!” the trainer exclaimed, rushing over. “Where were you? You’re supposed to be warming up right now—a bunch of people scratched from your next class, so they want us up there stat. Didn’t you get my text?”

  “Sorry, I was a little distracted,” Payton said. I expected her to tell Dana what had happened, but instead she glanced around with an anxious look on her face. “Has anyone seen Mickey?” she called out.

  Jen, the groom we’d encountered earlier, stepped out of a nearby stall. “He ran to the trailers to get something,” she said. “Do you need me to take Midnight?”

  “Yes,” Dana snapped before Payton could answer. “Come on, Payton. We should have been up at the ring five minutes ago.”

  As Jen took Midnight’s lead, Payton shot Bess, George, and me an apologetic look. “Talk to you guys later,” she said, hurrying after her trainer, who was already rushing off down the aisle.

  “Wow,” George said. “That woman is intense.”

  “Yeah.” I stared after Payton, but I wasn’t really thinking about Dana. “It’s kind of weird, isn’t it?”

  “What?” Bess shot me a look. “You mean that Payton doesn’t seem to mind Dana yelling at her all the time?”

  “No—that Payton’s best horse got attacked so soon after she found out about that anonymous drug rumor.”

  George rolled her eyes. “That’s our Nancy,” she joked. “Always looking for a mystery wherever she goes.”

  “And usually finding one.” Bess turned to me. “What are you saying? Do you really think there’s a connection?”

  “Think about it, Nancy,” George said. “How would those nutty protesters even know Payton’s horse would be hanging out near the parking lot fence? It’s too coincidental to think they were targeting her. They probably just tossed that tomato at the first horse that wandered close enough.”

  “You’re probably right,” I admitted. “Still, you have to admit it’s kind of strange.”

  “Kind of,” George agreed. “But everything about the big-time horse show world seems a little strange to me.”

  “Me too,” Bess said. “For all we know, people at these shows might make anonymous complaints against the competition all the time. Maybe George is right and we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

  “Maybe.” I shrugged. “Let’s find Ned so we can all watch Payton ride again.”

  “Here she comes,” Bess said as Payton trotted into the ring. This time she was riding a dapple gray horse.

  “She’s looking good,” George said. “Isn’t that one of the horses she introduced us to?”

  “Yeah, I think it’s one of hers,” Ned said. “What was its name again? Rain Cloud, maybe?”

  A pair of teenage girls were sitting on the bleacher bench in front of us. They were maybe a year or two younger than Payton, dressed in breeches and flip-flops. One of them turned around with a smile.

  “It’s Rain Dance,” she supplied. “She’s one of Payton’s younger jumpers, but they’ve been doing great all season.”

  “Oh! Thanks.” I returned the girl’s smile. She nodded, then turned back to watch as Payton sent the horse into a canter.

  Payton rode a big circle around several of the jumps at a brisk trot. Then a buzzer sounded, and she picked up speed and aimed her mount at the first jump, an airy arrangement of blue-and-white rails suspended between a pair of standards painted with the name of the show. The horse sailed over with half a foot to spare.

  “Nice,” I said.

  “Did you see that?” a loud voice came from a few yards down the bleachers. “She really messed up the approach. Not a good way to start.”

  I glanced that way. The speaker was a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair, prominent jowls, and beefy shoulders. He was surrounded by teen and preteen girls in riding attire. All the girls tittered loudly at his comment.

  “Typical Payton,” one of the girls said. “She’s always getting her fancy horses to cover for her.”

  “Uh-huh.” The man smirked. “Just watch her gun that poor mare to the next one.”

  Glancing back at the ring, I saw Payton and her horse approaching the next jump. Once again, the pair cleared the obstacle effortlessly before executing a tight turn to the next one.

  “She’s lucky that mare is so forgiving,” the jowly man said, his voice just as loud as before. “If she tried to ride most horses that way, she’d be off at the first fence.” He smirked. “At least she can serve as an example of how not to ride.”

  Beside me, I could tell that Ned was gritting his teeth. A second later he stood up.

  “Excuse me,” he called to the man. “Payton Evans is a friend of ours, and we don’t appreciate your remarks. Keep it down, okay?”

  The man stared at Ned. “Sorry, buddy,” he said, though he didn’t sound very sorry to me. “I just call ’em as I see ’em.”

  Ned frowned. Like I said, he’s pretty easygoing. But he has a temper under there somewhere, and the best way to bring it out is to insult his friends or family.

  “Listen . . . ,” he began.

  Just then another girl rushed over to the group around Mr. Jowly. “Hey, Lenny, that new black pony won’t let Tina do up his girth,” she said breathlessly. “You’d better come before she starts crying again.”

  The man quickly stood up. “I’m coming,” he said. “There’s nothing much to see here anyway.” Shooting one last glance toward the ring, he stomped down the bleachers after the girl. The other girls followed, with some of them casting curious or annoyed glances in our direction.

  “Nice going, Nickerson,” George said with a laugh. “It takes some real attitude to almost start a rumble at a horse show.”

  I heard the two teens in front of us snicker at George’s comment. Then they both turned around. “Are you guys really friends of Payton’s?” the girl who’d spoken up earlier asked.

  “Yeah. Why?” George asked.

  “I’m just surprised you don’t know about Lenny Hood, that’s all,” she said. “He never has anything nice to say about Payton.”

  “Why not?” I asked at the same time as George asked, “Who’s Lenny Hood?”

  “Lenny’s, like, one of the winningest trainers on the A circuit,” the second girl spoke up. “Rumor has it he asked Payton to come ride with him when she started getting really good.”

  The first girl nodded. “But Payton turned him down flat. Now every time she beats one of his students, he totally holds a grudge.”

  Interesting! My mind immediately flashed again to that anonymous tip. Could Lenny Hood be behind that? Was he trying to get revenge, or maybe just looking to throw Payton off her game so his students could beat her?

  “You said that’s a rumor, right?” I said, leaning closer to the girls. “That he wanted Payton to train with him? Do you think there’s any truth to it?”

  The two girls exchanged a look, then shrugged in unison. “You know how it is on the circuit,” one of them said. “Everybody talks, and usually there’s at least some little bit of truth or whatever. . . .”

  A snippet of a popular song came from her friend’s lap. “Oops, Maria just texted me,” the friend said. “We’d better go.”

  “Okay.” The other girl stood up. “Tell Payton good luck in the Grand Prix,” she told us. “We’re all pulling for her.” Shooting a glance toward the spot where Lenny and his groupies had been sitting, she added, “Well, most of us, anyway.”

  She followed her friend, who was already making her way down the bleachers. Soon they’d both disappeared into the crowd.

  “That was interesting,” I said, wishing I’d had more time to talk to the girls. “Think it could mean something?”

  “Something like a new mystery?” Bess patted my hand. “Give it up, Nancy. You know you’re just looking for something to take your poor disappointed mind off
the fact that your boyfriend is totally ignoring your anniversary.”

  I sighed and traded a look with Ned. He merely smiled. I might be slightly obsessed with mysteries. But Bess was just as dogged when it came to romance.

  “Should I start with hot dogs or burgers?” Mr. Nickerson asked as he hauled a cooler out through the sliding glass doors leading onto his family’s back deck. “Or maybe we can dig those chicken tenders out of the freezer if anybody wants ’em.”

  Ned grinned. “I’d say you should start by firing up the grill, Dad,” he said. “That thing’s so old it’ll be a miracle if we don’t end up calling out for pizza.”

  “Very funny.” His father pretended to pout. “Don’t pay any attention to him, Bertha. He just doesn’t understand you like I do.” He patted the ancient grill on the hood. “Now, where’d I put the charcoal?”

  “Your dad is living it up old-school, huh?” George said to Ned as Mr. Nickerson headed toward the shed at the back of the lawn. “When’s he going to join the modern era and get a gas grill like everyone else?”

  “Probably never,” Ned replied. “Mom already knows that Bertha comes first in Dad’s heart.”

  “That’s right.” Mrs. Nickerson looked up from setting out a stack of paper plates on the picnic table. “If that man could marry a grill, I’d still be single.”

  I laughed along with the others. There were about a dozen people in the Nickersons’ spacious, shady backyard. George had been lounging on a wicker chair since we’d arrived twenty minutes earlier, drinking a soda and trading jokes with Mr. Nickerson. Ned was helping his mother carry stuff out from the kitchen, and Bess was stirring sugar into a pitcher of freshly squeezed lemonade. Various friends and neighbors of the Nickersons were there too, helping or chatting or just enjoying the beautiful evening.

  “Ah, here’s the guest of honor now!” Mrs. Nickerson said.

  Payton stepped out of the house, her hair still damp from the shower and a bashful smile on her face. “Hi, everyone,” she said with a little wave. “Nice to meet you all.”

  There was a flurry of introductions. I wandered over to Bess and George, who were watching from nearby. “I hope Ned’s dad finds the charcoal soon,” I said. “I bet Payton’s starving after her busy day.”

  “She did really great today, didn’t she?” Bess said. “I can see why everyone thinks she’s a shoo-in for the Olympics.”

  George glanced out into the yard. “Here comes Mr. N. with the charcoal.”

  “Payton!” Mr. Nickerson said when he spotted her. “You’re here.”

  “Yeah, she’s here, Dad.” Ned grinned. “And I seem to recall you promising her you’d have a burger ready for her by the time she got out of the shower.”

  “Oops.” Mr. Nickerson set the bag of charcoal beside the grill. “Well, what can I say—creating food with fire is an art, and that can’t be rushed.” The grill’s lid let out a loud creaking sound as he opened it.

  “Ol’ Bertha’s really singing,” one of the adults joked.

  Ned’s father didn’t respond. “What’s this?” he said, reaching into the grill and pulling out a folded piece of paper.

  “Probably ol’ Bertha’s ‘I quit’ note,” George called out.

  Most of the group shouted with laughter. But I just smiled and stepped closer, curious. If this was one of the pranks Ned and his father were always playing on each other, I wanted a front-row seat.

  Mr. Nickerson unfolded the paper. There were just a few lines on there, typed in a large, bold font:

  PAYTON: IS RIDING FOR THE GOLD WORTH YOUR LIFE?

  QUIT WHILE YOU AND YOUR HORSES ARE AHEAD.

  AND ALIVE.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Taking Note

  “WHAT IS THIS?” MR. NICKERSON FROWNED and glanced around at the group. “Is this someone’s idea of a joke? Because it’s not very funny.”

  “What is it, dear?” His wife hurried over.

  I stepped toward my friends. “You know how you were teasing me about trying to find a mystery earlier?” I said quietly. “Well, I think one just found me. Or us. Or Payton, to be exact.”

  Payton wandered toward us just in time to hear her name. “What are you talking about, Nancy?” She sounded confused. “What’s going on?”

  I didn’t get a chance to answer. Mrs. Nickerson swept over and dragged Payton off toward the house, while Mr. Nickerson called for attention.

  “Something just came up,” he told his friends and neighbors. “We need to talk privately with Payton for a few minutes.” He handed the tongs he was holding to one of the men. “Rick, can you see about getting Bertha started?”

  “Well, I can’t make any promises, but I’ll try,” the man replied with a smile.

  Mr. Nickerson thanked him and headed for the door. He paused and glanced at me. “Nancy, maybe you should join us.”

  “Right behind you,” I said, following him into the house.

  Ned, Bess, and George came too. “Is everything all right?” Bess asked. “What happened?”

  “Mr. Nickerson found a threatening note in the grill,” I said. “It’s addressed to Payton.”

  Mr. Nickerson nodded. He handed the note to Ned, who read it with Bess and George looking over his shoulder.

  “Whoa,” George said.

  Mr. Nickerson grabbed the note back. “I think we’d better call Payton’s parents.”

  “And the police, as well,” Mrs. Nickerson added.

  “No, wait!” Payton’s face had gone pale. “Please don’t call my parents. I don’t want them to worry.”

  “That’s sweet, dear,” Mrs. Nickerson said. “But they’ll want to know their only daughter could be in danger.”

  “You don’t understand.” Payton bit her lip. “My parents are always pushing me to be the best. They wouldn’t want me to get scared off by some random jerk trying to steal my focus.” She smiled, though it looked forced. “They’d probably trot out that old line about how sticks and stones might break my bones, but words can never hurt me.”

  Mrs. Nickerson frowned. “Nonsense,” she said. “I know your parents always encourage you to do your best, but your safety is more important than anything, and I’m sure they’d agree. Hand me that phone,” she ordered her husband.

  “But what if this is just some kind of prank?” George spoke up. “Like one of Payton’s fellow riders trying to psych her out or something?”

  I guessed she was thinking about that girl from the schooling ring earlier. “It’s possible,” I mused aloud. “Someone from the show grounds could’ve followed Payton here and planted that note.”

  Mrs. Nickerson’s eyes widened in alarm. “All the more reason to notify the police!” she exclaimed.

  “Or maybe you just need to notify someone who might actually be able to figure out what’s going on.” George pointed at me. “Done.”

  Mr. Nickerson raised an eyebrow. “She has a point,” he said to his wife.

  “Yeah,” Ned agreed. “There’s no point getting Mr. and Mrs. Evans all riled up over nothing. Let’s let Nancy look into it first. If it’s just some prankster or crazy competitor, she’ll figure it out.”

  His mother glanced at me, seeming uncertain. “Well . . .”

  Meanwhile, Payton just looked confused. “Let Nancy look into it?” she said. “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, right.” Bess smiled. “Payton doesn’t know about our local sleuthing prodigy.”

  She and the others took turns explaining. Payton listened, nodding along but still looking skeptical.

  “Nancy Drew, girl detective—I know it sounds weird, right?” Ned finished with a chuckle. “But trust me, Payton. If anyone can help you, it’s Nancy.”

  “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to give her a chance to look into it a bit,” Mrs. Nickerson said slowly. She glanced at her husband, who nodded.

  “It’s worth a try,” Mr. Nickerson said. “But if you can’t clear things up quickly, Nancy—or if you sense any real danger—we’ll definit
ely be calling in the troops.” He put a hand on Payton’s shoulder. “And I want you to be careful until we know what’s going on, all right? We’ll keep an eye on you while you’re here, of course. But you might want to mention this to your trainer, so she can keep an extra-close watch while you’re at the show.”

  “Ned and I were planning to spend the day at the show tomorrow anyway,” I said. “We can help keep a lookout.”

  “And we can come help,” Bess said, and George nodded.

  “Thanks, you guys.” Payton sounded grateful. “I’m sure this is nothing. Really.”

  “All right.” Mrs. Nickerson still didn’t sound completely convinced. “We’ll give this a chance. But please let us know if you uncover anything worrisome, Nancy.” She stood up. “Now we’d better get back out there before our other guests think we’ve abandoned them.”

  She hurried outside with her husband right behind her. Bess, George, and Payton headed out too. I started to follow, but Ned stopped me with a hand on the arm.

  “I have a confession to make,” he said once we were alone. “I, um, wasn’t planning on taking you to the horse show tomorrow.”

  “You weren’t? But I thought—”

  “I know I told you that was the plan.” He shrugged, looking sheepish. “But I was actually going to whisk you off for a romantic picnic at Cliff View Park instead. You know—for our anniversary.”

  “You were?” I was touched. “That sounds amazing. Even Bess would be impressed.”

  He laughed. “Yeah, it was killing me today not to just tell her so she’d get off my back,” he said. “But I wanted it to be a surprise.”

  “I’m surprised.” I smiled and stood on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

  “But that’s what I’m saying.” Ned sounded troubled. “I don’t think we can go. Not with this Payton business hanging over our heads. I’m worried about her. Plus, you just pretty much promised my folks we’d be at that horse show all day tomorrow.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Or at least all day until we solve the mystery. What if we get there early and wrap it up before lunchtime? Then we could still have our picnic in the afternoon.”