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Authors: Bonnie Bryant
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got to stop everything immediately!” said Stevie.
Max looked mildly skeptical. Stevie was always making pronouncements like this.
“We’ve found a major clue in Nickel’s stall,” Stevie said. “Everyone has to know.”
“Call everyone,” Lisa said.
“You really think I should?” Max said with a grin. “Everyone’s eager to hit the trail.”
“This is a must!” Stevie said grandly.
“Okay, if I have to,” Max said. “Riders, assemble outside Nickel’s stall.”
There was a hush, then a stampede, as everyone rushed to see what was going on.
“I guess The Saddle Club had better explain,” Max said.
“Look what we’ve found,” said Lisa, pointing to thesheet of paper in Nickel’s stall. “It seems to be a sort of ransom note.”
Max beamed and said, “You’re kidding me.”
“No,” Lisa said. “It’s a totally weird note, but it has to mean something.”
“You’re just trying to keep the really good detectives off the trail,” said Veronica scornfully.
“So ignore it,” said Stevie furiously.
“No,” Max said. “The Saddle Club is doing something it doesn’t have to. It’s giving everyone an equal chance. I want you all to come to my office to listen to the contents of the note.”
On the way to the office Max said to Lisa, “Since you’re an experienced actress, I want you to read it.”
W ITH RIDERS SITTING on the floor staring up at her, Lisa lifted the paper and read the poem aloud.
When she was done, Lisa looked up. The riders were staring at her with open mouths.
“What’s a D.C.?” Amie finally asked.
“The director of the Pony Club, silly,” said Jackie. “In other words, Max.”
“I knew that,” said Amie, raising her chin. “I just wanted to see if you knew.”
“That’s the worst poem I ever heard,” Veronica said.
“It is not,” said Lisa indignantly. Having read the poem several times, she was starting to like it.
“Let me see that thing,” said Veronica, standing up impatiently.Veronica’s riding hat was perched on top of her stiff hair, making her look like a pinhead. This hadn’t stopped her from trying to look gorgeous. She was wearing a new melton hunt jacket and a canary-yellow vest.
“It’s time for a
real
detective to get to work,” Veronica said as she took the note, spreading it out on Max’s desk so that everyone could see it. “It’s typed,” she said, “so we can’t analyze the handwriting.”
“As if you’re a handwriting analyst.” A.J. smirked.
“For your information, I know quite a bit about handwriting analysis,” said Veronica airily. She tossed her head, something she often did, but this time her hair was motionless and her riding hat jiggled.
“We could call the police and get them to dust it for fingerprints,” said May.
“After The Saddle Club has smeared their greasy fingerprints all over it?” said Veronica. “I don’t think so. In any case, what crime has been committed? Someone has written a perfectly dreadful poem, but that’s not illegal.”
At this, Max’s expression became rather stiff, Stevie noticed.
“The real meaning is in the poem,” Veronica said. “Some of us understand it, but some of us are too dim.”
“Time to hit the trail,” Max said, stepping forward. “Let the hunt begin.”
As the riders broke into groups Max winked at Stevie, Carole, and Lisa. They could tell he was pleased that they’d shared their discovery of the note.
Jessica, Jackie, and Amie were giggling in the corner, saying something about red yarn.
“They found red yarn, too,” said Lisa. “There seems to be a lot of it around.”
“But what does it mean?” said Carole. “Yesterday we found yarn on the door of Nickel’s stall. Today we found more. Amie, Jackie, and Jessica have found some, too. Where is all this yarn coming from?”
“Somewhere, somebody has part of a red sweater,” Stevie said.
“The fact that we found red yarn yesterday and today means the thief has been
Max looked mildly skeptical. Stevie was always making pronouncements like this.
“We’ve found a major clue in Nickel’s stall,” Stevie said. “Everyone has to know.”
“Call everyone,” Lisa said.
“You really think I should?” Max said with a grin. “Everyone’s eager to hit the trail.”
“This is a must!” Stevie said grandly.
“Okay, if I have to,” Max said. “Riders, assemble outside Nickel’s stall.”
There was a hush, then a stampede, as everyone rushed to see what was going on.
“I guess The Saddle Club had better explain,” Max said.
“Look what we’ve found,” said Lisa, pointing to thesheet of paper in Nickel’s stall. “It seems to be a sort of ransom note.”
Max beamed and said, “You’re kidding me.”
“No,” Lisa said. “It’s a totally weird note, but it has to mean something.”
“You’re just trying to keep the really good detectives off the trail,” said Veronica scornfully.
“So ignore it,” said Stevie furiously.
“No,” Max said. “The Saddle Club is doing something it doesn’t have to. It’s giving everyone an equal chance. I want you all to come to my office to listen to the contents of the note.”
On the way to the office Max said to Lisa, “Since you’re an experienced actress, I want you to read it.”
W ITH RIDERS SITTING on the floor staring up at her, Lisa lifted the paper and read the poem aloud.
When she was done, Lisa looked up. The riders were staring at her with open mouths.
“What’s a D.C.?” Amie finally asked.
“The director of the Pony Club, silly,” said Jackie. “In other words, Max.”
“I knew that,” said Amie, raising her chin. “I just wanted to see if you knew.”
“That’s the worst poem I ever heard,” Veronica said.
“It is not,” said Lisa indignantly. Having read the poem several times, she was starting to like it.
“Let me see that thing,” said Veronica, standing up impatiently.Veronica’s riding hat was perched on top of her stiff hair, making her look like a pinhead. This hadn’t stopped her from trying to look gorgeous. She was wearing a new melton hunt jacket and a canary-yellow vest.
“It’s time for a
real
detective to get to work,” Veronica said as she took the note, spreading it out on Max’s desk so that everyone could see it. “It’s typed,” she said, “so we can’t analyze the handwriting.”
“As if you’re a handwriting analyst.” A.J. smirked.
“For your information, I know quite a bit about handwriting analysis,” said Veronica airily. She tossed her head, something she often did, but this time her hair was motionless and her riding hat jiggled.
“We could call the police and get them to dust it for fingerprints,” said May.
“After The Saddle Club has smeared their greasy fingerprints all over it?” said Veronica. “I don’t think so. In any case, what crime has been committed? Someone has written a perfectly dreadful poem, but that’s not illegal.”
At this, Max’s expression became rather stiff, Stevie noticed.
“The real meaning is in the poem,” Veronica said. “Some of us understand it, but some of us are too dim.”
“Time to hit the trail,” Max said, stepping forward. “Let the hunt begin.”
As the riders broke into groups Max winked at Stevie, Carole, and Lisa. They could tell he was pleased that they’d shared their discovery of the note.
Jessica, Jackie, and Amie were giggling in the corner, saying something about red yarn.
“They found red yarn, too,” said Lisa. “There seems to be a lot of it around.”
“But what does it mean?” said Carole. “Yesterday we found yarn on the door of Nickel’s stall. Today we found more. Amie, Jackie, and Jessica have found some, too. Where is all this yarn coming from?”
“Somewhere, somebody has part of a red sweater,” Stevie said.
“The fact that we found red yarn yesterday and today means the thief has been
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