Mystery of the Midnight Rider (Nancy Drew Diaries #3)(8)

"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?