Mystery of the Midnight Rider (Volume 3) (Nancy Drew Diaries) - Hardcover

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Carolyn Keene is the author of the ever-popular Nancy Drew books.

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Mystery of the Midnight Rider

CHAPTER ONE

Riding High

“IS THAT HER?” I ASKED, SHADING MY EYES against the glare of the afternoon sun. “The one in the beige breeches and tall boots?”

Ned grinned. “You’ll have to be more specific, Nancy. Just about everyone out there is wearing beige breeches and tall boots.”

The two of us were leaning on the rail of a large riding ring at the local fairgrounds. At the moment it was crowded with horses and riders warming up for their next class. All of them—male and female, teenagers and adults—were dressed almost exactly alike.

“You have a point,” I said with a laugh. “So how are we supposed to know who to cheer for once the class starts?”

Just then one of the horses separated from the others and trotted toward us. “Ned Nickerson? Is that you?” the rider called.

Ned waved. “Hi, Payton! It’s good to see you again.”

“You too.” Payton halted her horse in front of us and smiled shyly. She was about sixteen, with a slender build and delicate features that made her look tiny atop her horse, an enormous bay with a splash of white on its forehead.

“Payton, this is my girlfriend, Nancy Drew,” Ned said. “Nancy, this is Payton Evans.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said. “Your horse is beautiful.”

“Thanks.” Payton leaned forward to give the horse a pat on its gleaming neck. “He’s actually not mine, though. I’m riding him for my trainer—he’s one of her sale horses. He’s still a little green, but he’s coming along.”

“Green?” Ned raised an eyebrow. “Looks kind of reddish brown to me.”

I rolled my eyes at the lame joke. “Green just means he’s not fully trained yet,” I explained.

“That’s right.” Payton smiled at me. “Are you a rider, Nancy?”

“Not really,” I replied. “But I took some lessons when I was a kid. And I never miss coming out to watch this show.” I returned her smile. “Even when I’m not acquainted with one of the star riders.”

I glanced around, taking in the hustle and bustle surrounding me. The annual River Heights Horse Show was a prestigious competition, attracting top hunter-jumper riders from all over the country.

Payton’s smile faded slightly. “I’m not the star,” she said, her voice so soft I could barely hear it over the thud of hoofbeats and chatter of riders and spectators. “The horses are the stars. I’m just along for the ride.”

“You don’t have to be modest,” I told her with a chuckle. “Ned’s told me all about you. He says you’ve been riding since you were practically in diapers, you’ve had all kinds of success on the A circuit, and you’re super talented and hardworking.”

Payton shrugged, playing with the tiny braids of her mount’s mane. When she responded, her voice was even quieter. “It’s easy to work hard at something you love.”

As an experienced amateur detective, I’m pretty good at picking up clues. But it didn’t take a supersleuth to tell that Payton wasn’t comfortable with our current line of conversation. Time for a change of subject.

“Anyway,” I said, “Ned also tells me your mom and his mom were college roommates.”

“That’s right.” Payton stroked her mount as he snorted at a leaf blowing past. “When Mrs. Nickerson heard I was coming to this show, she was nice enough to offer to let me stay with them so I don’t have to stay in a hotel.”

“She’s thrilled to have you here, and she can’t wait to see you tonight,” Ned assured Payton. “I’m supposed to tell you not to eat too much today, since she and Dad are planning a big welcome barbecue for you tonight.”

I chuckled. “That sounds like your parents,” I told Ned. “So are Payton’s parents going to be staying with you too?”

“No,” Payton answered before Ned could say anything. A sad look flitted across her face. “They have to stay in Chicago for work today and tomorrow, and then they’ve got a family obligation that will keep them busy for most of Saturday. But they promised they’ll be here in time to watch me ride in the Grand Prix on Saturday.”

“The Grand Prix? What’s that?” Ned asked.

I rolled my eyes at him. “Weren’t you paying attention when I dragged you to this show last year?” I joked. “The Grand Prix is the big jumping competition on Saturday night. It’s sort of like the equestrian competitions you see in the Olympics. Huge, colorful fences that are, like, ten feet high.”

Payton laughed. “Not quite,” she said. “Even the best Olympic horse couldn’t jump a ten-foot fence! The heights are more like five feet.”

“Close enough,” I said with a shrug. “Anything I can’t step over myself looks high to me.”

Ned poked me on the shoulder. “Here come Bess and George,” he said. “I was wondering where they’d disappeared to.”

“Bess said she wanted to grab a soda.” I noticed that Payton looked slightly confused as she watched my two best friends approach. “George is short for Georgia,” I explained with a wink. “But nobody calls her that unless they’re trying to get under her skin.”

Payton nodded. “Got it.”

By then Bess and George had reached us. Both had sodas, and George was also holding a paper cup of French fries smothered in ketchup. The scent of grease wafted toward me, temporarily overwhelming the pleasant horsey smell of Payton’s mount.

“Payton Evans, George Fayne, Bess Marvin,” Ned said, pointing at each girl in turn as he made the introductions. “Bess and George are cousins, believe it or not,” he added with a grin.

“What do you mean, believe it or not?” Payton asked.

I laughed. Bess and George may share the same family, but that’s about all they have in common. Bess is blond, blue-eyed, and as girly as they come. George is, well, pretty much the opposite of that. For instance, Bess had dressed up to come to today’s show in a pretty dress, stylish flats, even a matching bow holding back her shoulder-length hair. George? She was wearing what she wore just about every day. Jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers.

“Don’t pay any attention to him,” Bess said. “It’s nice to meet you, Payton.”

“So you’re the superstar rider Ned keeps talking about,” George added, popping a fry into her mouth. “He’s been totally geeking out about how you’re probably going to be in the next Olympics. Is that true, or is he just pulling our legs?”

Payton played with the reins resting on her mount’s withers. “Actually, my trainer tells me the chef d’équipe of the US team is supposed to come watch the Grand Prix at this show.”

“The chef de what?” Bess asked as she reached over and snagged...