The Mystery at Saratoga

Then he’ll be disqualified.”
    “What are you going to do with us?” Trixie demanded nervously.
    “There’s a deserted barn out in the country. We’ll dump you there. By the time anybody finds you, the two of us will be headed out of the country, where we’ll live like kings until the heat blows over. Any other questions?” Scarface asked sarcastically. Without waiting for a reply, Scarface signaled to Louie, and the two men disappeared.
    Her face burning, Trixie forced herself to remain silent, but her mind was working frantically. She and Regan and Honey were in no immediate danger, but Gadbox would be disqualified. “And possibly ruined as a racehorse, just as his father was,” she murmured.
    “Gadbox isn’t the only one who’ll be ruined,” Regan’s voice said, startling Trixie, who hadn’t realized she’d spoken out loud.
    “What do you mean, Regan?” Honey asked.
    Just then the engine of the pickup truck turned over, and the trailer lurched as it moved forward. The two girls were knocked off balance by the movement, and they struggled to right themselves.
    “Who else will be ruined?” Trixie demanded as soon as she recovered.
    “If Gadbox is disqualified tomorrow, it will be the second time in seven years that a Worthington Farms horse has been drugged during a claiming race. The first case went unsolved, but the track officials will be too embarrassed to let that happen a second time. They’ll look hard for someone to pin the crime on—maybe Worthington, maybe Stinson.” Regan laughed hollowly. “Maybe even me, if the investigation turns up the fact that I was back in Saratoga.”
    “But Regan, the track officials wouldn’t accuse someone who wasn’t guilty of the crime,” Trixie protested.
    “Of course not,” Regan said. “They won’t prosecute unless they have sufficient evidence. But track rules call for suspension of the owner and the trainer from racing while the investigation is going on. That could ruin both Worthington and Stinson financially.
    “Then,” Regan continued, “even if they’re cleared of the charges against them, the cloud of suspicion that hangs over them won’t go away immediately. They won’t get good odds on their horses; other owners will be afraid to bid on them in claiming races—in short, Worthington Farms would be out of business.”
    “That’s awful!” Honey exclaimed indignantly. “We have to get back to town before the race, to warn Mr. Stinson not to give Gadbox that feed bag,” Trixie said desperately.
    Just then, Trixie, Honey, and Regan were jostled again as the truck pulling their trailer made a sharp turn. Before they could recover, the truck stopped and the doors slammed. The three occupants of the trailer waited for further sounds. They heard the metallic noise of the trailer hitch being pulled loose. Then they heard the doors of the truck open and slam shut once again. The engine turned over and began running smoothly. Finally the noise of the truck receded.
    The three sat in the dark stillness for a few moments, until they were sure that their captors had indeed left. Then Trixie whispered, “Honey, come over here and help me untie Regan.”
    “Why are you whispering?” Honey demanded in a normal tone. “And how can I help? My hands are tied behind my back, just as yours are.”
    “We’ll have to work together,” Trixie said out loud. “You’re better with knots and things than I am, because of all your needlework. You be the hands, and I’ll supply the eyes, as much as I can in this darkness.”
    Honey knelt on one side of Regan, her back turned so that her hands could reach the knots that bound his hands and feet. Trixie knelt facing him, directing Honey on which ropes to pull.
    It was a long and frustrating process. Trixie, who could see what needed to be done, became impatient at Honey’s groping clumsiness. Honey’s arms grew stiff and sore from the awkward position she was forced to hold them in to work on the knots. Regan lay helplessly on his stomach, asking repeatedly if the girls were almost finished.
    The heat and humidity became almost unbearable in the tight enclosure of the trailer. The only sound from outside was the chirping of crickets. Influenced by the stillness outside, the three people inside the trailer unconsciously lowered their voices once again to whispers.
    After what seemed like hours, the last of the knots gave way, and Regan’s arms and legs flopped free. Groaning, he pulled