“Well, I’d better help Michael cool Curio off,” Lee Anne said. Tucking the top hat under her arm, she bent to pick up the bucket. “Why don’t you stay and watch some of the other horses?” she added before hurrying off.
“Whew,” Bess said when Lee Anne had gone. “I sure wouldn’t want to work with Klaus Schaudt, no matter how wonderful a trainer he is. And I don’t care what excuses Lee Anne makes—I think Michael’s rude.”
“Give the guy a break,” Ned said. “He might be totally different when he’s not stressed.”
Nancy reluctantly agreed. “Lee Anne did say he was trying to earn high scores at this show so he could qualify for—”
Loud yelling cut Nancy off.
Behind Bess, a young man was struggling to hold on to a horse that was shaking its head so wildly it jerked the lead line from the man’s grasp.
Nancy gasped as the horse wheeled and raced in their direction. Eyes wild with fright, it slid to a stop right behind Bess. As it reared, Nancy could see that its hooves were inches from Bess’s head.
3
Thief!
“Bess!” Nancy screamed. Grabbing her friend’s wrist, she yanked her out of the path of the horse’s hooves. Bess crashed into Nancy, and the two of them landed in a heap on the ground. The horse loomed over them, its nostrils flaring.
“Whoa.” Speaking calmly, Ned stepped toward the animal and caught the dangling lead line. Bess scrambled to her feet, pulling Nancy with her. At the same time the young man ran around and took the lead from Ned.
The man backed the horse up, then stopped it. As he patted the horse’s neck, he spoke in a soothing voice. Listening closely, she realized he was speaking German.
“Thanks, Nan,” Bess said as she brushed off the seat of her shorts.
Stooping, Nancy picked up her cap, which had fallen off. “Thank Ned. He kept us from getting trampled.”
“Are you all right?” The young man came up to them, a worried expression on his face. After pulling off his cap, he held it against his chest. In his other hand he held the lead tightly, but by now his horse was standing docilely by his side.
“Yes. We’re fine,” Nancy told him.
“Thank goodness.” He blew out an exaggerated breath. “I would not want two beautiful American women to be stomped to death.”
Bess giggled. The man grinned at her, his blue eyes twinkling. He had wavy blond hair, a slim, athletic rider’s build, and an infectious smile.
“Gunter Werth.” He took Bess’s hand and shook it heartily. “And you two ladies are…?”
“Bess Marvin.” Bess shook his hand. “And these are my friends Nancy Drew and Ned Nickerson.”
“I am honored to meet you.” Gunter bowed at the waist, then straightened up. “Well, Bess, Nancy, and Ned, my horse, Persaldo, apologizes for his rude behavior.” He grinned boyishly. “Perhaps you would accept my invitation to dinner tonight as an apology?”
Bess grinned. “That sounds wonderful, Gunter, but I…we hardly know you.”
“And I hardly know anyone in this country,” Gunter said wistfully. “I need someone to show me the sights and explain American words—like why they call it a hot dog and why everyone says ‘awesome.’”
“Why don’t you join us?” Ned suggested. “We’ll answer your questions about America if you’ll answer our questions about dressage. We’re newcomers to the sport.”
“Ah.” Gunter smoothed his hair and put his cap back on. “Dressage is a tricky sport to understand, but it’s beautiful to watch. I will be happy to—how do you say it?—fill you in.”
They agreed to meet at the motel at seven-thirty. Reluctantly Bess said goodbye as Gunter led his horse away.
“Wow,” she gasped. “He’s really nice. Ned, thanks for inviting him to have dinner with us.”
“We can ask Lee Anne and Michael, too,” Nancy suggested. “Make it a fun night out.”
Bess groaned. “A fun night with Michael? No way.”
“Let’s give the guy a chance,” Nancy said. “Lee Anne seems to like him, so there must be something to like.”
“I doubt it.” Bess shook her head. “Now, with Gunter there’s a lot to like. He knows how to charm a girl. Not like you American guys.” She playfully punched Ned on the arm. “Always taking us for granted and expecting us to fall all over you.”
“Take Nancy for granted?” Ned joked. “Never. She might stick a scorpion in my bed.”
“Don’t give me ideas, Nickerson,” Nancy teased back.
“Hey, speaking of ideas”—Bess pointed to a little girl eating a chili dog—“let’s eat. In fact”—she pulled a brochure from the pocket of her shorts—“according to this, the concourse of the indoor arena is filled with over fifty vendors!”
“Oh, great.” Ned rolled his eyes. “Shopping.”
“Good idea,” Nancy said. “After we find something to eat, we can browse. Then I’d like to stop by the security office to see if they found any clues about the fire.”
The three of them headed for the huge arena. It was dark and cool inside, a welcome respite from the intense sun.
After Nancy’s eyes adjusted, she looked around. Bess was right. The top level of the circular concourse was filled with vendors’ booths. Most were hawking horse supplies, but others sold jewelry, handmade clothing, and leather goods.
Bess’s eyes glowed as she made a beeline for a glass case filled with silver and turquoise earrings. “A pair of these would look great with my new blouse.”
Ned strolled over to a rack of hand-tooled leather belts while Nancy headed for a booth selling old books. She scanned the shelves, noticing that all the books were about horses. She found one of her childhood favorites. Pulling it out, she flipped through the pages, admiring the illustrations.
