Nancy ran out of the room and pounded on Mrs. Rogers’s door. “Mrs. Rogers, wake up! The barn’s on fire!”
The door flung open, and a bleary-eyed Mrs. Rogers came running out, still shuffling on her loafers. “I just called the fire department. We’ve got to save the horses!”
Kids were streaming out of their rooms and throwing on robes and shoes. “Campers!” Mrs. Rogers barked. “You stay here, for your own safety. Counselors, come with me.”
James hurried out of his room wearing jeans and an inside-out T-shirt. Elsa, George, and Nancy joined him on the stairs, still in their regular clothes. In less than two minutes they were evacuating the horses from the barn.
“Just open the stall doors that lead into the field,” Mrs. Rogers commanded, throwing open Derby’s door. The flames sizzled and crackled nearby. “If the horses refuse to come out, blindfold them with these and force them to follow you.” She handed a bunch of rags to each counselor.
Nancy was relieved to see that the fire was confined to the corner feed room, but with the breeze blowing and hay and straw everywhere, the flames would surely spread fast.
Tristram bolted by Nancy into the field as the welcome sound of sirens blared through the night. Seconds later, two fire trucks were hosing down the barn.
Smoke filled the air as the firefighters worked. When the last ember had finally fizzled out, the fire chief turned off his hose and strode over to Mrs. Rogers. “Lucky you called us so quick, Mrs. R.,” he said. “We got here just in time. Most of the damage is confined to that corner.” He pointed to the feed room.
Mrs. Rogers sighed. “I can’t thank you enough. It’s your prompt work that saved the barn.” She shuddered. “Thank goodness it’s the feed room that burned, and not a horse’s stall.” She led everyone over to the charred room to inspect it. The sharp smell of burnt grain filled Nancy’s nose.
“Obviously the feed is destroyed,” Mrs. Rogers said, looking around. “We’ll need to get more before the horses’ breakfast tomorrow. But I was lucky. Nothing aside from the wall next to the feed was destroyed.”
The fire chief walked over to a pile of ashes and flakes of burlap. “Looks like the fire started here,” he said.
“We piled empty feed sacks in that corner,” Mrs. Rogers explained. “Also, Green Spring’s flag was there.” A shred of green and gold fabric on a bent metal pole poked out of the ashes. “Can you tell how it started?”
The fire chief knelt down and studied the area. Then he asked Mrs. Rogers whether lamps and other electrical devices had been in the room.
“Just an overhead lightbulb,” she declared.
“Unfortunately, I can’t tell how the fire started,” the chief said. “If someone set it with a match, there’d be no evidence left.”
Mrs. Rogers blanched. “ ‘Set it?’ You mean on purpose?”
As they spoke, Nancy scanned the room for clues. If someone had set the fire on purpose, it was possible a clue had been dropped. If it was metal, it could have survived the fire. But she only saw charred wood, ashes, and bent metal feed cans. Nancy moved by the sooty windowsill to study the contents of the cans, but a flicker behind the broken window made her stop. Someone’s shadow?
Before she could blink, it was gone. Nancy ran outside. The full moon lit up the field in which a group of frightened horses huddled. Beyond the field, dark woods rose against the sky. Whoever had slipped by the window had disappeared into the night.
Maybe it was one of the firefighters checking for sparks, Nancy thought. She hurried to the other side of the barn, where a group of firefighters was busy making sure no embers had spread. “Were any of you guys just around on the other side?” Nancy asked them.
One man glanced around at the crew and said, “Nope. We’re all accounted for here, except the chief—he’s with Mrs. Rogers.”
Just then, Nancy remembered the note that Bess had opened at The Horse’s Mouth. It had charged Green Spring’s barn with not being up to fire safety standards. “Does this barn get inspected every year for fire safety?” Nancy asked the same man.
“Sure does,” he answered. “In fact, we inspected this barn about four months ago. It was up to code, no doubt about it. Mrs. Rogers keeps this place shipshape. The fire damage tonight might have been a lot worse otherwise.”
Nancy thanked the man for the information, then walked back to the feed room. She ran into George on the way.
“The fire chief’s wrapping things up with Mrs. Rogers,” George told Nancy. “She told the counselors to go back to the house. The horses will stay in the field for the night, just to be on the safe side. At least it’s nice out.”
Nancy and George strolled back to the house side by side, with Elsa and Jimmy straggling behind. “That fire was pretty suspicious,” Nancy said. “I saw a shadow at the feed room window. I think someone was spying—maybe to find out how bad the damage was.”
George shook her head. “Those horses could have been killed. I mean, who would set a fire like that on purpose?”
“We know this person doesn’t care about horses or people. Whoever’s doing all this is out to wreck Green Spring no matter what’s in the way.” Nancy then recalled a possible clue. “Clare Wu was away from camp tonight, supposedly seeing her brother. She could have soaped my windshield—and also set the fire.”
“You think she would have put her own horse in danger?” George wondered. “That’s as low as you can go.”
“We’ll have to find out where her horse’s stall is. Maybe she was planning to free him if the fire got too close.” Nancy opened the front door of the house to the sight of petrified campers grouped in the hall.
“Are the horses okay?” Akiyah asked in a whisper.
Nancy reassured the kids about the horses and the barn. Despite her soothing words, she could tell the campers’ nerves were rattled. As Nancy tried to calm one girl, she abruptly turned away. “I don’t care what anyone says—I’m so out of here. Mom and Dad can just come and get me tonight.” She stalked to a telephone at the back of the hall.
As the other campers trudged back up the stairs, a pair of gold almond-shaped eyes caught Nancy’s attention. Clare was back from her brother’s.
• • •
Light streamed in through the window and woke Nancy at seven. Juliana and Akiyah were already putting on blue jeans and ankle-length riding boots. Juliana zipped a pair of brown suede chaps over her worn jeans.
“Nancy, will you please wake Cordelia?” Akiyah asked. “She’ll get mad at us if we do it. You’re an authority figure, so she won’t mess with you.”
Nancy smiled and straggled out of bed to wake Cordelia. Then she put on blue jeans, boots, and a sky-blue T-shirt that matched her eyes. A delicious smell wafted into their room. “Pancakes,” Cordelia announced, hurrying into the hall in unlaced boots. “We’d better get down there quick.”
Sure enough, a pile of steaming blueberry pancakes awaited everyone. Sounds of giggling and jokes rose through the dining room as campers and counselors ate. After taking a bite of a pancake and swallowing it down, Nancy leaned over to George. “The mood here seems much better today,” she whispered.
“The rally team is being announced at lunch,” George said. “Everyone’s really excited about that.”
Still using a low voice, Nancy said, “I want to search Clare’s car after breakfast. I’m curious to see if there’s evidence of soap or matches.”
Once she was finished, Nancy cleared her plate and headed to the kitchen to find Mrs. Rogers. She wanted to ask her permission to search Clare’s car. As Nancy passed through the pantry she was startled by a high-pitched chattering noise coming from the far corner.
“Nancy, meet Tarzan,” Mrs. Rogers said, bustling out of the kitchen. “Most people think he’s kind of obnoxious, but who knows? Maybe you two will be friends.”
A gray monkey was attached to a playpen post by a collar and leash. He shook his fist at Nancy and screamed. “Somehow I don’t think we click,” Nancy said wryly.
Mrs. Rogers picked him up, and he wrapped his arms affectionately around her. “Don’t worry, Nancy, you’re not alone. For some reason, he tolerates me.”
With Mrs. Rogers’s permission—and she got it very easily—Nancy searched Clare’s car. Unfortunately, she found no clues. She reported back to the director in her office. “If Clare is guilty, what could be her motive for harming your camp?” Nancy asked.
Mrs. Rogers puckered her brow. “Maybe she resents the scholarship program because my quota kept her from making last year’s rally team. I have a rule that at least two spots go to scholarship campers.”
After their conversation Nancy joined up with George, who was helping a boy measure grain in a temporary feed room set up in an empty stall. Once the boy left to feed his horse, George started speaking. “Elsa told me the camp schedule today. After the kids feed their horses and clean out stalls, they divide into two groups, Green and Gold—Green Spring’s colors. This morning, I’m helping Elsa coach stadium jumping to the Green Group in the outdoor ring, while you, James, and Mrs. Rogers supervise the Gold Group cleaning tack and grooming horses. We switch activities in the afternoon.”
“Thanks for the drill, Sergeant Fayne,” Nancy joked.
George laughed, and the two friends parted ways. Nancy headed for the tack room and began to set out cans of saddle soap, sponges, and buckets of water for the Gold Group. After a few minutes, Rafael Estevez appeared in the doorway. “Hi, Nancy,” he said. “I just finished feeding Clown and cleaning out his stall. The schedule says the Gold Group does tack now.”
“The schedule never lies,” Nancy declared. “Come on in, Rafael. I got the supplies ready.”
But Rafael didn’t reply. He was gaping at something behind her. Nancy whirled around. She saw only racks of saddles attached to the wall—nothing the least bit strange.
Rafael pushed past her and grabbed a saddle off a rack labeled CLOWN. His hands shook as he lowered it, and in a flash Nancy saw exactly what was wrong: The saddle had been ruined—gouged by a sharp object. Ugly scratches covered the once smooth caramel color of the leather seat.
Rafael threw his saddle on the floor and collapsed on a nearby stool. He buried his face in his hands. Nancy wanted to try to comfort him, but she knew she had to tell Mrs. Rogers what happened immediately. “I’ll be right back, Rafael,” she said, patting his shoulder. Then she hurried into the office next door.
“This is outrageous!” Mrs. Rogers said after Nancy had delivered the bad news. “Rafael worked an extra summer job to buy that saddle.” Like a tiny gray tornado, Mrs. Rogers whirled into the tack room with Nancy following. As Mrs. Rogers studied the saddle and questioned Rafael, Nancy searched the room for clues. A glint on the floor under the saddle rack caught her eye.
Nancy picked up the object. It was long, sharp, and thin, and it gleamed wickedly in the morning sun that poured through the window. But it wasn’t a knife. It was a sterling silver letter opener, with the initials JB monogrammed on the handle.