Horse Thief (11 page)

“What is it?” asked Carole.

“I just got a full scholarship for the rest of my college education!” said Denise, laughing joyfully. “Full tuition, plus room and board. I applied to a foundation run by a woman who’s crazy about horses, and they called me today!”

The Saddle Club cheered in delight and gave Denise a big four-way hug, after which Denise collapsed wearily into Max’s chair.

“I’ve been making myself sick with worry,” she told the girls. “I’ve been so anxious lately because I couldn’t figure out how I could stay in college. I thought I’d have to quit and go back to Indiana to find a job.”

Suddenly Denise slapped herself on the forehead. “What am I thinking?” she blurted out. “I’ve got to tell Red. He’s been worried, too. I was crying on his shoulder just this morning. See you later, girls—and good luck in the rally!” She hurried out of the office.

The three girls walked out of the office a second later. “Do you know what this means?” Carole asked happily.

Lisa nodded. “It means that Denise is innocent! I’m so glad. And I’m gladder still that her money problems are over.”

“But then what did Mo see?” Stevie wondered out loud.

“She must have been mistaken,” Carole said reassuringly. “Denise was probably counting her own money and worrying about her budget. And then Mo exaggerated, in her own head, how much money Denise really had in her hand. You know how it is. She’s probably got money on the brain, because everyone’s thinking too much about the theft. I know I am,” she finished with a grimace.

“We’re no closer to finding the thief,” said Stevie, frustrated.

“Yes, we are,” Lisa reminded her softly. “We know now that it’s not Denise.”

Stevie grinned, acknowledging Lisa’s point. “You’re right. That matters a lot. Well, who’s left?” she asked determinedly.

Carole and Lisa exchanged glances. They knew why Stevie was so focused on finding the thief. After Veronica’s very public accusation of Phil, Stevie was desperate to clear his name once and for all. And although they didn’t know it, Stevie was starting to get really worried. She was thinking about Phil’s very expensive gift, and that little niggle of suspicion surfaced again.

She pushed the thought away firmly. “So now we’re down to Veronica, Celeste, Howard, and Kurt,” she said. “And, technically, Mo, although we’ve basically crossed her off, too.”

Suddenly Stevie remembered the scrap she had found in Max’s office. “Look, I think I found a clue in Max’s office, on the shelf where the money was.” She dug it out of her jacket pocket, and Carole and Lisa bent over her hand for a closer look. It was a piece of black yarn, the type that they all used to braid their horses’ manes.

“What does that tell us?” Carole asked.

“Nothing, that’s what,” said Stevie, discouraged.
“Practically everyone here is walking around with bits of black yarn clinging to them!” She stuck it back into her pocket and checked her watch. She gasped. “I’m going to be late for my turn!” She hastily ran off to compete in the third round of the rally.

C
AROLE WAITED FOR
her turn in the fourth and final round of the dressage rally. She was already mounted, since she was scheduled to go next.

The fourth round of the rally was the most difficult and challenging series of tests, stopping just short of international-level dressage tests. Most of the junior riders didn’t even enter that round, instead competing only for individual ribbons in the first three rounds. But only riders who competed in all the rounds could hope to place for an overall ribbon, which was based on point totals from all four rounds.

The fourth round involved standard dressage movements like flying changes and pirouettes. Asking a horse
to execute quick steps while cantering required a lot of training and practice. Carole could feel her concentration becoming more intense, and she could tell that Starlight was getting eager, too.

Mo was performing, and Carole watched as she and Indy executed a perfect pirouette. “He really does look like Starlight,” Carole murmured to herself. She began examining Indy from stem to stern, noting all the differences. Indy’s ears were slightly larger. His star was a slightly different shape. He was a tiny bit heavier than Starlight. And something about his black tail looked different, too. Was it its arch?

Carole kept turning the question over and over again in her head until she realized that she was in danger of losing her concentration for her upcoming turn. “Why am I obsessing about this now?” she asked herself, annoyed. “Who cares if their tails are different?” She looked again at Indy’s black tail, which was braided, like Starlight’s, along the length of his dock.

Then she gasped. She had just realized what was bothering her, and it was something that could break their case wide open! Frantically she looked around for Lisa and Stevie.

“The next rider is Carole Hanson, representing Horse Wise,” Max announced. Carole was startled. She took a deep breath and managed to collect herself. The mystery would have to wait a few more minutes.

* * *

L
ISA HAD ALREADY
finished her final turn in the rally. She was in Prancer’s stall, removing the mare’s tack. She had filled the water bucket and promised to give the tired horse a complete grooming later on, after the rally.

The minute Lisa removed Prancer’s bridle, the mare again turned her head and nipped at Lisa’s sleeve. Then she butted Lisa hard with her nose.

“What is wrong with you?” asked Lisa, exasperated. She always tried to be patient with Prancer—or with any horse—but she was starting to reach the end of her rope with the horse’s strange behavior. What on earth could be wrong with her?

T
HE ORDER OF
competition changed for each round of the rally, and Stevie had been early on the list for the fourth round. She and Belle had done really well, although Stevie felt that that was more because of Belle than her. In a corner of her mind, she was gratified to realize that all the practice and training she and Belle had put into dressage was paying off. After finishing her turn, she stabled Belle and turned her full attention to the investigation again. She wandered around the stable thinking so hard that she almost bumped into spectators several times.

Who was the thief? Was it Celeste? Everything Stevie
had learned about Celeste was definitely bad—her competitiveness, her total power over Howard.

Was it Kurt? Stevie couldn’t dismiss what Mo had told them about Kurt’s past, and she was definitely puzzled by Kurt’s general weirdness.

Could it be …? Stevie tried to push the thought of Phil from her mind. But why was Phil lying about being in Max’s office? Phil couldn’t be the thief. She knew him too well, and she knew that he could never steal money.

Then Stevie stopped short. “But where did he get the money to pay for my gift?” she asked herself. She clutched her head distractedly. All these questions, and not a single answer.

I’ll go back to Max’s office
, she decided. Maybe more clues would turn up, or at least a better clue than a stupid piece of yarn.

She walked into the tack room and stopped. She hated going back into Max’s office. Her spying in there had nearly given her a nervous breakdown last time. She sat down on a trunk to calm herself. On the one hand, she reasoned, she really needed more clues. On the other hand, Denise had caught her in there once, and Stevie was still thankful that Denise had been so preoccupied with her own affairs that she hadn’t questioned Stevie’s presence there.

As Stevie silently argued with herself, Kurt walked
into the tack room. He didn’t notice Stevie sitting in the corner, and he put his hand on the doorknob to Max’s office. Then he paused. He looked nervous, and Stevie distinctly saw him gulp as if he was gathering his courage to go in.

Stevie’s eyes widened. Kurt looked really nervous. What was he about to do? Why did he look so strange? Then her jaw dropped. Maybe Kurt was returning to the scene of the crime! She jumped up and confronted him. “I knew it!” she said triumphantly, forgetting all of her suspicions about Veronica, Celeste, Howard, and Phil. “You’re the thief. You took the money, and you’re coming back for more!”

Kurt was badly shaken by Stevie’s sudden appearance. He turned as white as a sheet and collapsed against the door to Max’s office. Then he saw who it was and his expression turned surly again. “You nearly scared me half to death,” he snarled.

“Oh, don’t change the subject,” Stevie said menacingly. “I know now who stole the money. You’re guilty. Where did you hide it? Give it back right away.”

Kurt looked bewildered. “Listen,” he said firmly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I barely know who you are, other than your name. Nor do I care. But will you please go away? I was right in the middle of something.”

“Yeah, I know what you were in the middle of,” Stevie
said. “You were going back to steal more money from Max’s office!”

Kurt put his hands in the air in frustration. “What money? Why do you keep talking about money?” he asked.

“Don’t play innocent with me,” Stevie sneered. “You were there with the rest of us. You saw how much money Max hid on that shelf.”

“Yeah, and so?” Kurt asked.

“And so you took it,” Stevie said. Then she stopped and looked at him. Kurt was a picture of puzzlement. He was gazing blankly at her as if she were speaking Greek. Now
she
was getting confused. Unless Kurt was a really good actor—and so far, she had only seen him act one part, that of the rude loner—he was telling the truth about not understanding her.

Once Stevie began pursuing an idea, it was hard for her to slow down. But she also had a strong sense of fair play. And besides, she and Kurt were getting nowhere in this conversation. She took a deep breath and decided to soften her interrogation. “Listen, Kurt,” she said patiently. “All that money we saw in Max’s office was stolen not long after we were in there. I’ve been trying to find out ever since then who took the money, especially since everyone at the rally probably thinks my boyfriend, Phil, did it.”

Despite his habitual reticence, Kurt was beginning to
look interested. “Why would everyone think that?” he asked.

“Because Veronica—the rotten egg at Pine Hollow—accused him in front of everyone,” said Stevie. “Weren’t you there when Max announced the theft?”

Kurt shook his head. “No, I had no idea. I’ve been hanging out by myself ever since I got to this stable.”

Stevie had no trouble believing that. It pretty much fit in with what little she knew about Kurt. And somehow, she was starting to get a feeling that maybe she was wrong about Kurt being the thief. After all, they were now talking almost like normal, friendly people. Kurt was not exactly Mr. Congeniality, but at least he was standing there, not running away, and giving what appeared to be honest answers to Stevie’s accusations.

She needed to clear up one last question, though. “What were you doing, going into Max’s office all by yourself?” she asked.

She almost wished she hadn’t asked the question, because Kurt’s expression became sullen again. “That’s none of your business,” he said, turning away.

Stevie grabbed his arm impulsively. “Please tell me,” she said. “I know you can’t be crazy about someone who calls you a thief, but I’ve got to know. I’ve got to find out who did this so I can eliminate Phil as a suspect.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Kurt muttered. “You and your horse-crazy friends just wouldn’t get it.”

Stevie put her hands on her hips. “Try me,” she said decisively. “I might surprise you.”

Kurt gave a heavy sigh. “I was just going to use Max’s phone.”

“Why?” Stevie asked.

Kurt sighed again. “I needed to call my parents.”

“Why?” Stevie asked again. “What could be so urgent?” She knew she was being relentless, but getting information out of Kurt was like pulling teeth.

“Because I hate riding, that’s why!” Kurt blurted out. “I hate riding, and I’m terrified of horses. I can’t even stand to be around my own horse, Simon, even though I know he’s one of the nicest horses in the world.” He stopped and took a deep breath.

“You hate riding?” Stevie asked. Now she was more confused than ever. What did this have to do with anything?

“Yeah,” said Kurt. Now that he had said it out loud, he appeared almost relieved. “My whole family is really into horses. My dad’s a well-known horse trainer. My parents couldn’t believe it when I was scared of horses. I didn’t want to have anything to do with them. I’m more interested in physics and astronomy and working for NASA someday.

“But my parents refused to understand,” he continued. “So they forced me to join Mendenhall, and they bought me Simon. Do you know what it’s like,” he added in a
Plaintive tone, “to be surrounded by horse-crazy people? Do you know what it’s like when your parents eat, breathe, and sleep horses and can’t understand why you don’t feel the same way? And do you know what it’s like when the only people you meet are like you, people who are as horse-crazy as my family? I knew you guys would think I was a freak once you found out how I really felt. That’s why I acted like a jerk—what’s the point of even trying?”