Mrs. Rogers’s kind face suddenly hardened with anger. With her fists at her sides, she marched into the tack room. Nancy, George, and Elsa followed. A dark-haired boy of about sixteen stormed by them, his black eyes blazing. A girl about his age stood by the window, her mouth set in a triumphant smirk. As she saw Mrs. Rogers, she blanched, and her mouth twisted into an unattractive scowl.
Mrs. Rogers didn’t bother to get the girl’s side of the story. “Clare, I heard what you said to Rafael. Your attitude is inexcusable! It’s worse than arrogant. It’s unkind. What makes you think you’re any better than he is?”
The girl shook back her long dark hair. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Rogers,” she said. Her gold eyes defiantly met Mrs. Rogers’s gaze.
She sure doesn’t seem sorry, Nancy thought.
“Your rudeness to that boy and to the other scholarship campers has to stop,” Mrs. Rogers told her. “One more mean remark and you’re Green Spring history! I don’t care how talented a rider you are.”
Clare’s voice was sullen. “I understand, Mrs. Rogers. I apologize.”
“Apologize to Rafael, not to me,” Mrs. Rogers snapped. “Now hurry to dressage. You’re late for practice.”
“Yes, Mrs. Rogers,” Clare said calmly. She headed out.
Nancy, George, and Elsa followed Mrs. Rogers back to her office. Once there, Elsa telephoned Bess to tell her about the job at The Horse’s Mouth. When Elsa hung up, she was smiling. “Just as I suspected, Bess is thrilled,” Elsa told them. “I gave her the editor’s name and number. She’s going to call him right away.” She headed over to the door. “Now, I’d better get over to dressage.”
Elsa hurried out, and Mrs. Rogers began to explain the camp schedule to Nancy and George. When she’d finished, Nancy asked her about Clare.
“Clare Wu is a classic snob,” Mrs. Rogers said in a tone of disgust. “She’s arrogant, controlling, and drop-dead beautiful. I think she has a secret crush on Rafael, but he doesn’t return it. She’s not used to rejection, so I can see how it could make her mad.”
“And that’s why she’s so mean to him?” George asked.
“The situation is complicated,” Mrs. Rogers admitted. “Rafael Estevez is a very talented rider. My scholarship kids are every bit as qualified as the other campers. But he doesn’t rate with Clare, because his family isn’t wealthy. I don’t publicize who the scholarship kids are—it’s kept confidential—but somehow the kids all know who’s who. It bothers Clare that she’s attracted to someone she thinks isn’t high class.”
“I don’t blame Rafael for not liking Clare when she’s so horrible to him,” Nancy said.
“Clare can be nice when it suits her,” Mrs. Rogers said, “and she was nice to Rafael at first. But he’s a quiet kid. He keeps to himself. Clare probably thought she was being tolerant and good-hearted by courting a boy from a different background, but when he didn’t pay attention to her, she got mad. She thought Rafael should feel grateful she liked him. This is a lot of inference on my part, true, but most of it seems pretty obvious.”
“Man, what a viper!” George exclaimed.
“I’ve been trying to manage her for the past three years at this camp, and she just gets worse each year. That girl is one big headache. But a lot of kids seem drawn to her. I wish I knew why.”
“Charisma,” Nancy said. “I bet it lets her get away with stuff.”
“I just hope that ‘stuff’ doesn’t include digging holes and cutting saddle girths,” Mrs. Rogers said grimly.
“One thing’s for sure,” George said. “Clare’s charisma won’t blind Nancy. If Clare’s guilty, Nancy’ll find out.”
In a short time, Nancy and George learned everything they needed to know about their counselor jobs from Mrs. Rogers. By now it was late afternoon; time to drive home to pack for camp.
As the two girls headed toward River Heights in Nancy’s blue Mustang, the summer sun glittered in the western sky. They’d promised Mrs. Rogers to be back at Green Spring after dinner so they could meet the kids before bed. As she dropped George off, Nancy asked, “Can you have dinner at my house, George? At around six o’clock? Hannah said she’d make fried chicken. I’ll see if Bess is free too.”
“Awesome! I’m addicted to Hannah’s chicken.”
Hannah Gruen was the Drews’ housekeeper. She had been part of the family since the death of Nancy’s mother, when Nancy was three. Hannah’s talent in the kitchen was not lost on Nancy and her two best friends.
“Should I pick you up in my car?” Nancy asked.
“Nah. I’ll just walk over to your house after I pack,” George said. “But could we pick up my duffel bag at my house on our way back to camp? That way, I won’t have to haul it with me.”
“Sure thing,” Nancy said. George jumped out of the car and jogged down the path to her door.
George and Bess showed up on Nancy’s doorstep promptly at six. “Come in!” Nancy said happily. “Hannah’s chicken smells great. Dad had to work late, unfortunately.”
“We’ll leave some for him,” George said.
“Excuse me? Hannah’s chicken? Leftovers?” Bess said skeptically. “No way, José.” Nancy smiled and went to get sodas for her friends.
“So did you interview for that job at The Horse’s Mouth?” Nancy asked when she returned. “The one Elsa called you about?”
Bess’s blue eyes danced. “Sure did. And I got the job!”
“Awesome,” Nancy said, and grinned.
“Congratulations, Bess,” George said. “That was fast. When do you start?”
“I already have. Mr. Blackstone, the editor, put me to work on the spot. He’s pretty much snowed under, so he was happy I could spend an hour today helping him open mail.”
“What are your other duties?” Nancy asked.
Bess grinned. It was clear that her new job thrilled her. “I’m the editor of a column on equestrian fashion. It’s called ‘Looking Hot to Trot.’ It has the cutest heading—an illustration of two horses, boy and girl, dressed up in Victorian clothing. Mr. Blackstone is going to write it, but if I get good at doing the research, he’ll let me take over.”
“Will you get your own byline?” Nancy asked.
“You bet,” Bess said.
“My cousin the reporter,” George said approvingly. “You’ll be famous in River Heights.”
Bess giggled. “In the horse world, at least—if I’m lucky.”
“Did you have to dress up in a black hat and boots to prove you know about riding fashion?” George teased.
“My new pink miniskirt and purple tank top showed Mr. Blackstone that I’m a fashion expert.” Bess glanced down at her outfit fondly.
“Hey, girls,” Hannah called from the kitchen. “Soup’s on.”
Nancy, George, and Bess set the kitchen table while Hannah brought out fried chicken, freshly baked bread, and a green salad. Nancy quickly sat down with her friends. “Thanks, Hannah,” she said, passing the chicken. “This looks great.”
“It’s my secret recipe,” Hannah said proudly, returning to the kitchen.
“Speaking of secret,” Bess said, leaning toward Nancy and George, “I opened the strangest letter for Mr. Blackstone today. It was an anonymous note criticizing Green Spring Farm and Mrs. Rogers’s camp.”
“What did it say?” Nancy asked.
“First, that the riding lessons at Green Spring are bogus,” Bess said, counting off on her fingers. “Second, that Mrs. Rogers doesn’t know a horse from a cow, and third, that the stable isn’t up to fire safety codes. But Elsa’s taught at the camp for a couple summers, and she’s totally loved it.” Bess buttered a piece of bread and shrugged. “Mr. Blackstone thought the note was completely lame, but he’s investigating the charges just in case.”
Nancy and George exchanged glances. “That note is obviously just one more effort to trash Green Spring,” Nancy said. She and George briefed Bess on Green Spring’s problems and their decision to go undercover to investigate them.
The girls heard Hannah clear her throat from the kitchen. “Nancy, I want you and George to be careful,” she warned. “This person sounds dangerous.”
“I promise we’ll be careful, Hannah,” Nancy assured her. “But only if you’ll give us some of your chocolate cake.” She caught a glimpse of Hannah frosting a brown cake.
“That’s a small price to pay,” Hannah said, icing the last bit of cake with a flourish.
After finishing dessert the girls helped Hannah clean up and thanked her for dinner. Then Nancy picked up her packed duffel bag from the luggage rack in her room, and she and her friends headed outside. Nancy and George waved good-bye to Bess as she drove away, then they headed for Nancy’s Mustang in her driveway.
Suddenly, Nancy stopped and pulled on George’s arm. “Look!” she said, pointing at her car. White swirls of soapy writing covered the back windshield. “Get away from Green Spring, Nancy Drew!” it warned. At the end of the message, a picture of a horse’s head crossed with a gigantic X glared at the girls.