“Sure. I mean, it’s not like the hunt’s aim is to hurt the fox,” Laura said. “The point is to gallop around the countryside and have an exciting ride.” Laura paused and studied her friends carefully. “Why don’t you guys come out with us tomorrow and see for yourselves? You’re both terrific riders.”
Nancy hesitated. She still didn’t like the idea of fox hunting. Catching George’s worried glance, she could tell her friend felt the same way.
“Tomorrow’s the last day of cubbing—the warm-up to the hunting season, when the huntsman works all the hounds,” Mrs. Passano explained. “Opening day for the regular hunting season is in three days.”
“How long does the regular hunting season last?” Nancy asked.
“The Mill River Hunt goes out every Saturday from the end of September to January,” Mrs. Passano said. “After that it gets too cold to ride.”
“You guys should really try it,” Laura urged. “That way, you’ll see what hunting’s like firsthand. You might give us some fresh ideas on how to change the board’s mind.”
Nancy finished her potatoes while considering Laura’s invitation. Maybe she could get some ideas on how to change the hunt. Glancing at George, she saw her shrug, then give a thumbs-up sign.
“Okay, we’ll go, Laura,” Nancy said.
Just then Nancy heard the front door open. Startled, she saw Peter Greenbriar burst into the dining room.
“Mrs. Passano,” the groom announced breathlessly, “it’s Dundee! She’s on the floor of her stall, panting and wheezing. I’m scared she’s not going to make it!”
2
A Bucketful of Trouble
Laura dropped her fork on her plate with a loud clatter. “Dundee?” she asked, her voice trembling. “But I just saw her before dinner. She was fine.”
“I called the vet,” Greenbriar said. “He’ll be over right away. It’s a good thing he lives nearby.”
“Let’s go, girls,” Mrs. Passano said, quickly rising from her chair. She led the group out of the house and to the barn.
As they arrived, a Jeep screeched to a stop at the barn door. Nancy saw an older man climb out, carrying a black bag. He must be the vet, she thought. Without a word, he dashed into the barn.
Nancy could hear loud kicks on the sides of a stall down the aisle to the left as she followed Mrs. Passano.
“Let’s stay outside,” Mrs. Passano said. She stopped at a stall.
Peering over the half-door of the stall, Nancy watched as the dappled gray mare lay thrashing on the thick straw bedding. “It looks like she’s struggling for breath,” Nancy whispered to George.
Nancy watched anxiously as the vet pulled a syringe from his bag. After filling it with a liquid, he carefully injected it into the mare’s neck. Then he capped the needle and put it in his jacket pocket.
Dundee calmed down, and the vet began to examine her. First, he listened to her heart with his stethoscope. Shaking his head, he moved up to Dundee’s face and shone a small flashlight into her eyes and mouth.
Even from several feet away, Nancy could see flecks of foam around Dundee’s lips.
“What could it be?” Mrs. Passano asked the vet as he continued to examine the horse. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”
The vet didn’t answer. Finally, Dundee’s breathing gradually became more regular, and her thrashing legs fell still. The vet held up his finger, signaling that he’d answer in a moment. He took his stethoscope and listened again to the mare’s heart.
“I think she’ll be fine,” he said softly—the first words he’d spoken that night.
“Thank goodness!” Laura exclaimed, her voice still shaky. “But what’s wrong with her?”
“Well,” the vet said slowly, taking off his tweed cap and fanning his face with it, “I can tell you, I don’t think this horse has a disease. The symptoms would have shown up more gradually.” He paused, choosing his words with care. “I’m going to take some blood to check for an infection or liver damage. But to be honest, I suspect she may have been poisoned.”
Laura gasped. Her mother, who had entered the stall, looked at the vet, astonished. For a moment no one spoke.
“Mind you,” the vet went on, “I won’t be sure until I get the results of the blood work. And I’m not saying she was poisoned intentionally. She may have eaten something toxic by accident—something that made her very sick.”
“But—but—” Nancy heard a man’s voice stammering behind her. Turning around, she saw Peter Greenbriar hovering a few feet away. She’d completely forgotten he was there.
“This is—impossible,” the groom said, wringing his hands. “I take good care of these horses. I watch them like my own children. I tell you, there’s no way there could be an accidental poisoning in these stables.”
“Peter,” Mrs. Passano said, “no one thinks this is your fault. That hadn’t even occurred to me. I know you’re devoted to these horses. But I do want you to thoroughly inspect the stable. If Dundee has been poisoned, I want you to find what caused it before other horses are affected. The pasture will have to wait until it’s light.” Turning to the vet, she asked, “Do you have any idea what this poison could be?”
“Not really,” he said. “There are a number of substances that could produce these symptoms. The blood test may tell us. I’d start by checking out the feed and water buckets, though.”
“Mrs. Passano,” Nancy said, leaning over the door of the stall as the vet drew blood from the horse, “now that Dundee’s calm, would you mind if I came in and took a look around?”
“Not at all, Nancy, be my guest.” Mrs. Passano looked up from where she sat stroking Dundee’s head. “You’re an experienced detective. You might really be able to help us. The more eyes on this job, the better. Laura and George, please take a look at the feed room. Peter, you can get started on the rest of the stable.”
As everyone followed her directions, Nancy frowned. She didn’t like too many people knowing she was a detective. Both the groom and the vet might have heard Mrs. Passano say she was.
Noticing the dim light in the stall, Nancy fetched a flashlight from the tack room, where she’d seen one earlier that day. Back at the stall, she unlatched the lower door and entered.
Mrs. Passano looked up. “Nancy, the feed and water buckets are over there, in the corners.”
While the vet finished examining Dundee, Nancy headed to the bucket in the nearest corner and shone her flashlight inside.
There was an inch of clear water at the bottom of the bucket with a blade of hay floating in it. She knelt down and checked around the floor of the stall under the bucket. Where the straw lay thin in the corner, Nancy could see patches of the dirt floor showing through.
