Christmas Treasure (11 page)

“C
AROLE
!” S
TEVIE RAN
into the tack room. Riding class was about to start and she was running late, as usual. Most of the other riders were already warming up their horses.

Carole looked up from the bench where she was sitting, lacing up her field boots. “Stevie! Where have you been? I’ve been dying to talk to you!”

“I saw you on TV last night.” The words tumbled out of Stevie’s mouth as she sat down beside Carole. “You were in a robbery! And look.” She held up the front section of the morning newspaper. “You’re also in the paper! Are you okay? I wanted to call you last night but my mom wouldn’t let me. She said if you’d been hurt you’d have been in the hospital and not on television, which”—Stevie gasped for breath—“makes sense, I suppose.”

“I’m fine,” Carole said. “It was the most unbelievable
night I’ve ever spent.” She looked at Stevie and frowned. “How come you saw me on TV? I didn’t come on until after eleven. Weren’t you in bed?”

“No, I had to study for my algebra test. I was just brushing my teeth when my mom called me downstairs to see you on TV. You looked really good.”

“Carole!” Both girls looked up. Lisa stood there, the front page of the paper also in her hand. “Look! You’re in the paper!”

“I know,” Carole said calmly. Though it was exciting to be in the paper, her friends at school had asked her the same questions all day long, and she had been giving the same answers since early morning.

Lisa frowned. “But it said you were in a robbery. Are you all right? How’s your dad?”

“Oh, I’m fine, thanks,” Carole replied. “And so is Dad. The worst part is that the toys are all gone.”

“All of them?” Stevie blinked in disbelief as she began to pull on the battered cowboy boots she rode in.

“Every one of them.” Carole’s voice was sad. “The warehouse is totally empty.”

“Wow,” said Lisa. “You were at a real crime scene.”

“Is it just like on television?” Stevie asked. “Did the cops come roaring up with their guns drawn, barking orders over a bullhorn?”

Carole shook her head. “They drove up with their sirens on, but after that it was pretty dull. They just looked for clues and asked my dad a lot of questions.”

“Like ‘Where were you on the night of December ninth?’ ” Stevie asked in a deep voice.

“No.” Carole had to laugh at Stevie’s imitation of a police officer. “More like ‘Colonel Hanson, when were all the toys last accounted for?’ ”

“Gosh, Carole, weren’t you scared?” Lisa sat down next to her.

Carole nodded. “I was when we first went inside. We turned on the lights, expecting to see all these toys, and there was nothing there. It gave me a really creepy feeling. I was afraid the thieves might still be around the building, hiding and waiting for us.”

“What did you do?” asked Stevie.

“We ran back out to our car. My dad locked the doors and called 911 on his car phone. He sounded so serious that I got even more scared. Then the police came. And then Deborah pulled up right after the police.”

“Our Deborah?” Stevie’s eyebrows lifted in surprise.

Carole nodded. “She was covering the police beat for another reporter. She’s the one who got our picture in the paper and asked Tress Montgomery to come and interview us.”

“Wow,” said Lisa dreamily as she retrieved her riding helmet. “You actually met
the
Tress Montgomery. Is she as glamorous in person as she is on television?”

“She is.” Carole remembered Tress’s beautiful clothes and friendly smile. “She’s really nice, too. She said she
hoped that putting us on television would get people interested in helping the Marines replace the stolen toys.”

“Gosh, that’s a lot of toys to replace and not a lot of time.” Stevie threw her sneakers into her cubby. “Does your dad think they can do it?”

“They’re going to try,” Carole replied proudly. “He said the Marine Corps would accomplish their mission.” She looked at both her friends. “I told him The Saddle Club would help.”

“Of course we will,” said Lisa. “But how?”

“I don’t know.” Carole frowned. “I haven’t gotten that far. But I know we can do most anything once we put our minds to it. Think of all the other things we’ve accomplished together. Raising a few thousand toys in the next few days shouldn’t be too hard.”

“That’s right,” said Stevie. “We’ve just got to think of this as a challenge. Problems aren’t really problems, they’re just opportunities to learn.” She wrapped a red plaid scarf around her neck. “Why, just this afternoon I thought of a wonderful new trick to play on Veronica. You know how she comes in here and—”

Lisa cleared her throat loudly. Stevie looked up. Veronica had walked into the room and stopped in front of her locker, which was just across the aisle from Stevie’s cubby. Veronica insisted on having a locker with a door to protect her valuable riding gear—from Stevie’s pranks more than anything else.

“Hi,” she said. She caught a glimpse of the newspaper in Lisa’s hand and smirked at Carole. “I saw your picture in the paper this morning. Of course it wasn’t on the society page where it really counts, but it was an okay picture.”

“Thanks, Veronica,” replied Carole.

“Anyway, my father said we need to be generous to people who are less fortunate, particularly at Christmastime, so here’s a contribution for the toy drive.” Veronica dug in her expensive leather purse and pulled out a dollar. “Here.” She held the crisp bill out to Carole.

“Thanks, Veronica.” Carole took the money. “I’ll give it to my dad.”

“Please do,” Veronica said. “And tell him it’s from the diAngelo family.”

“I’m sure the Marines will be overwhelmed, Veronica,” Stevie said sarcastically. “They might even give you a medal.”

Veronica tossed her head, swinging her smooth black hair in Stevie’s direction, then turned to her locker. She started to open it, then stopped. She turned back to Stevie. “You haven’t been doing anything to my locker, have you?” she asked, her green eyes narrowing.

“No,” Stevie replied with a clear conscience. “I’ve been sitting here talking to Carole and Lisa.”

“Are you sure?” Veronica’s voice was tinged with suspicion.

“Positive.” Stevie zipped up her old quilted riding jacket. “I’m just getting ready to ride.”

“Hmmmm.” Veronica turned back to her locker while Stevie grinned at Lisa and Carole. They sat back on the bench and watched. Veronica slowly began to open her locker an inch at a time, as if she expected a rubber snake to come bursting out. Everyone held their breath as the door opened wider and wider. Carole and Lisa looked at each other. Had Stevie’s awful revenge already begun?

Finally Veronica opened the door all the way. Lisa and Carole peered inside. Everything in the locker seemed normal, or at least normal for Veronica. Tall black leather boots stood gleaming on the floor; her elegant custom-tailored riding jacket hung above them; a box of fancy Italian chocolates sat on the top shelf.

“What did you expect to find in there, Veronica?” Stevie asked innocently. “A dead body?”

“No, of course not,” Veronica replied haughtily, though she carefully peeked into the dark corners of the locker before she hung up her parka. Stevie, Carole, and Lisa tried hard not to laugh as she turned each boot upside down and shook it before she pulled it onto her foot. Then she checked the pockets of her jacket to make sure nothing disgusting had been hidden there.

“Well,” she said airily, trying to disguise the nervousness in her voice. “Everything seems fine. See you in class.”

“Have a good lesson,” Stevie called. “And don’t forget to check your stirrup leathers. You never know what can happen around here at Christmastime!”

Veronica gave Stevie a nervous glance over her shoulder and hurried out to Danny’s stall.

Carole and Lisa burst out laughing as soon as Veronica had left the tack room. “Stevie, what did you do to her stirrup leathers?” Carole asked.

“Nothing,” said Stevie, her hazel eyes twinkling with delight. “I haven’t done anything to her at all. I’ve thought about doing a lot of stuff to her, but I haven’t had time to put any of my plans into action.”

“But she thinks you’ve booby-trapped everything!” Lisa said.

“I know,” Stevie said, bursting into giggles herself. “That’s what’s so wonderful. I haven’t done a thing. It’s Veronica’s guilty conscience that’s making her think I have.” Stevie grinned. “This is great. This is better than anything I could ever have dreamed up. All I have to do is sit back and be nice to Veronica. It’ll drive her crazy!”

“Stevie, that’s psychological warfare!” Carole laughed.

“I know.” Stevie grinned. “I’m getting my revenge and I’m not doing a thing! I might start being even nicer to her. That will really drive her nuts!”

“Okay, girls, get a move on! You’ve got ten minutes to tack up and get ready for class!” Max breezed by the door
carrying some orange plastic cones. A second later he came back and stood in the doorway.

“Carole, are you okay? Deborah said you and your dad had some trouble last night.” Max’s blue eyes clouded with concern.

Carole nodded. “I’m fine, Max. The toy drive is ruined, though.”

“That’s too bad,” Max said. “Maybe all your publicity will help get things going again.” He started back to the riding ring, then paused and gave Stevie a hard look. “Ten minutes! And no excuses for being late today!”

“Let’s go,” said Lisa. “He’s not kidding.”

“But what are we going to do to help the Marines?” asked Carole as they hurried down to their horses’ stalls. “We had just begun to talk about it when Veronica came in.”

“Let’s have a Saddle Club meeting at TD’s after class,” suggested Stevie. “That way maybe we can all three come up with some good ways to raise money.”

“I don’t know if I can come,” said Lisa with a frown. “I’m supposed to go home and help my mother bake five dozen bannocks. Our relatives are scheduled to arrive from Scotland tomorrow afternoon.” She looked at Stevie and Carole and sighed. “But I think this qualifies as a Saddle Club emergency. Mother and her bannocks will just have to wait.”

“Great!” said Stevie. “We can get an ice cream and figure out what to do.”

“Right now we’d better get our horses saddled,” said Carole as they rushed toward the stalls. “Otherwise Max will figure out some nice barn chores for us.”

L
ATER THAT AFTERNOON
, after Prancer, Starlight, and Belle had been put back into their stalls and been given an armful of hay for the night, Stevie, Carole, and Lisa crossed the street in front of TD’s.

“I can’t believe how early it gets dark in December,” Lisa said as they cautiously crossed in front of a bus with its headlights already on.

“I know,” said Carole with a shiver. “And so cold.”

“That means it’s just the right time for ice cream.” Stevie held TD’s door open. “It gets you so cold on the inside, when you go back outside you don’t feel it anymore.”

“Huh?” said Lisa, frowning.

“Don’t ask.” Carole shook her head. “It’s Stevian logic. Mere mortals can’t understand.”

They slid into their favorite booth. “What are you going to have this afternoon, Stevie?” Lisa asked. “Something new?”

Stevie wrinkled her brow in thought. “I might make up the Veronica special,” she said. “That would be licorice ice cream with bittersweet chocolate sauce and devil’s food sprinkles.” Stevie stuck out her tongue. “All dark and nasty and bitter.”

Carole laughed. “You may be on to something with your psychological warfare, Stevie. Did you see how Veronica acted during riding class?”

“I know,” said Lisa. “Most of the time she kept checking her stirrup leathers. And when she wasn’t doing that she kept looking around the ring to see where you and Belle were.”

Stevie made her eyes bug out. “You never know what can happen when your mind starts playing tricks on you.”

Their usual waitress came over to the table, order pad in hand. “What’ll it be today, girls?” she asked. Then she looked at Carole. “Say, wasn’t that you in the paper this morning? And on TV last night? With the stolen toys?”

Carole smiled. “Yes, that was me.”

“Your dad’s the Marine in charge of that toy drive. That’s really awful, that somebody would steal toys that were meant for poor kids.”

“Yes, it is,” Carole agreed. “We’re trying to come up with ways to help right now.”

“Well, good for you,” said the waitress. “That’s a real
nice thing to do.” She pulled her pencil from behind her ear. “What can I get for you this afternoon?”

“I think I’ll have hot chocolate,” said Carole, unbuttoning her jacket. “With extra marshmallows.”

“Me too,” Lisa chimed in. “It’s just too cold for ice cream.”

“Not for me,” said Stevie. “I’d like my Christmas special, please.”

The waitress frowned. “Your Christmas special? Refresh my memory—was that the raspberry sherbet with the marshmallow sauce or the French vanilla with the chopped green cherries?”

“Actually it was one scoop of pistachio with strawberry sauce and coconut sprinkles.” Stevie smiled. “You were close, though.”

The waitress shook her head, scribbled their orders on her pad, and walked back to the counter.

“Gosh, Carole,” Stevie said in a low voice. “You’re a regular celebrity.”