The Mystery at Saratoga Read online

  “Oh, that’d be wonderful,” Trixie said. “I know he’ll appreciate it.”

  “Dan told me he’d try to take Bobby out to see Mr. Maypenny this week, too,” Honey said. “But I’m afraid he’s going to be a lonely little boy, with all of the Bob-Whites gone, and Regan, too.”

  “Then there’s been no more word from Regan?” Celia asked.

  Honey shook her head. “None so far, I’m afraid.” Trixie cast a worried look at her friend, wondering briefly whether Honey would forget herself and tell the Delanoys the real reason for their trip to Saratoga. Seeing Trixie’s look, Honey shook her head, almost imperceptibly, to reassure her that the secret was safe.

  Everyone was silent for a few moments. Tom watched the road ahead, and Celia and the two girls stared at the scenery, each lost in her own thoughts.

  Trixie suddenly became aware that Honey was speaking to her. “I’m sorry, Honey. What did you say? I was a million miles away.”

  Honey giggled. “Not that far, I bet. You were more like a hundred miles away, in Saratoga. I asked whether you’d had any trouble deciding what to pack.”

  Trixie groaned. “Boy, did I ever!” she said. “I remembered what we’d talked about: comfortable, casual clothes for the track, one or two nice outfits in case your parents take us out for dinner, a swimsuit if we want to swim in the hotel pool. Then I looked through my closet and my dresser drawers and couldn’t find anything that fit that list except the swimsuit. What I call ‘comfortable’ isn’t just casual, it’s downright ragged. And my nice outfits all have torn seams or missing buttons that I always forget about until those rare occasions when I need to wear them. Finally, I just closed my eyes and grabbed some things and threw them in my suitcase and closed it.” Seeing Honey’s horrified look, Trixie giggled and added, “I didn’t really do that, Honey. But I know that even if I’d gone out and bought all new clothes for the trip, I wouldn’t look as nice as you always do.”

  “Now, now,” Tom Delanoy said from the front seat. “You’re a very nice-looking young lady, Miss Trixie Belden. And I’m an expert on pretty ladies. After all, I married one.”

  Celia blushed and smiled, and Trixie laughed. “I have no choice but to accept that compliment gracefully,” she said, “since I can’t tell you you’re wrong, at least not about the woman you married.”

  “Well, I thank you both,” Celia said. “I wouldn’t worry about your clothing if I were you, Trixie. For one thing, I don’t think you realize how much more grown-up-looking you’re becoming. For another thing, you’re going to Saratoga to see things, not to be seen parading in pretty clothing.”

  “Absolutely!” Trixie agreed. “Oh, and I just can’t wait. Do you know, even though I’ve loved horses for as long as I can remember and have ridden almost every day since I’ve known Honey, I’ve never seen an honest-to-goodness horse race?”

  “You’ll love it, Trix,” Honey told her. “Our horses are beautiful, of course, and I adore them, but a racing Thoroughbred in top condition is perfectly perfect. It isn’t just the horses, either, that make Saratoga so much fun. There’s so much excitement at the race track. There’s a big, lighted board that shows the odds on the horses that are racing, and the numbers are constantly changing as people place bets. And the people! Daddy says a race track has more genuine characters per square foot than anyplace else in the world, and he’s absolutely right. Some of them are exactly what you’d imagine, with loud suits and flashy diamond rings. Others you’d expect to see anywhere but at the races—quiet little old ladies, sophisticated older men, and some people who look so ragged you wouldn’t expect them to have two dollars to place a bet with. Oh, I can’t begin to describe it, Trixie. You’ll just have to see it for yourself!”

  “I think you describe it very well, Honey,” Trixie told her. “I get shivers just listening to you, in fact! I do want to see it myself, though. I want to see all those strange people!” To herself, Trixie added, I want to see one familiar person, too—Regan!

  When Tom pulled up in front of the hotel where the Wheelers were staying, it was just a few minutes before noon. He carried the bags into the hotel and waited while Trixie and Honey were checked into the room that Mr. Wheeler had reserved for them. The desk clerk handed Honey a note from her parents, telling her that they had had to go to a luncheon with friends.

  “Daddy says that we should have lunch in the restaurant here at the hotel. We can sign for it, and they’ll just put it on our bill. He says that you and Celia should have lunch with us, Tom, if you’d like to.”

  “I’m sure that Celia would like to,” Tom said. “She’s such a good cook that the little dining room in our trailer seems like a gourmet restaurant to me most days, so eating out isn’t a big treat for me. But it is for her! I’ll go park the car and we’ll meet you in the restaurant.”

  Trixie felt a momentary twinge of impatience. She and Honey had been together all morning without being able to say anything to one another about the real purpose of their trip to Saratoga. Now that they had arrived at the hotel, Trixie wanted only to go to their room and plan their strategy for finding Regan—or at least for finding out what had happened all those years before that had finally caused him to leave the Manor House. Oh, woe, she thought. I don't know how I'll be able to make it through a whole hour without blurting something out to Honey.

  As the thought ran through her mind, Trixie’s impatience was replaced with a guilty feeling. Tom's spending a whole day driving us up here and then driving back to Sleepyside, and Celia's spending her day off to ride along, just so they can be together. An hour of my time isn't much, when I'm getting a whole week's vacation. “Come on, Honey,” she said aloud. “Let’s go meet Celia and Tom. I’m starved!”

  Trixie and Honey met Tom and Celia in front of the hotel restaurant, but seeing its dark interior and lavish furnishings, all four agreed that they’d feel more comfortable in the brightly lit, less expensive-looking coffee shop off the lobby. They ordered sandwiches and iced tea and chatted happily about Sleepyside, the Manor House, and all of the pleasant experiences that were awaiting the girls at Saratoga.

  When they were ready to leave, Celia’s face clouded as she said, “Maybe it’s just because we’re in a town that’s famous for its horses, but all morning long I’ve been thinking about poor Regan. He’s devoted to those horses, and he’s always seemed so loyal to the Wheelers. It must be something very serious that would make him disappear so—so mysteriously.”

  Trixie and Honey both nodded their agreement without speaking, afraid that they might betray their plans to find the missing groom.

  “Now, Celia.” Tom said, patting his wife’s arm, “don’t go getting the girls all upset right at the start of their vacation. I’m sure that Regan is all right and that he’ll be coming back to Sleepyside one day soon.” Getting up from the table, he added, “And speaking of getting back to Sleepyside, that’s exactly what we should be doing.”

  Celia rose, too, and smiled at the girls. “I’m sorry if I sounded gloomy,” she said. “Don’t start worrying about Regan because of what I said.”

  “We won’t,” Trixie said truthfully, then added silently, We started worrying about Regan long before Celia said anything.

  Back in the lobby, Tom told the girls, “Don’t go wandering too far by yourselves. I’m sure that the Wheelers will be back soon to give you the grand tour.”

  “Thank you for the ride, Tom,” Trixie said quickly, before Honey could promise to take Tom’s advice. “We’ll be careful.”

  “You be careful, too, Tom,” Honey said. “I want you and Celia to arrive in Sleepyside safe and sound.”

  “Tom’s the safest driver in the world,” Celia said loyally. “Now, you girls have a good time. I won’t forget my promise to take Bobby on an outing while you’re gone.”

  With a final wave, Tom and Celia left for the car, and Honey and Trixie walked through the lobby to their room.

  Once they were there, each sitting cross-legged on
one of the double beds, Trixie realized that all of the planning she had wanted to do was more difficult than she had realized.

  “I guess I don’t even know where to begin, Honey,” she admitted.

  “I don’t, either, Trix. Even though I’ve visited Saratoga with my parents before, I can’t really say that I know the town or anyone who lives here.” The girls sat silent for a moment, each trying vainly to work out a master plan for finding Regan.

  “I give up,” Trixie said finally. “All we can do is plunge in. We have to see as much of the track behind the scenes as we can and ask as many questions as we can without raising suspicions.”

  Honey giggled. “Between plunging in and getting behind the scenes, I don’t know if we’re here to watch horse races, go swimming, or produce a play. I think that’s what Mart would call a ‘mixed metaphor.’ But I also think you’re right. We’ll just see all we can and hope a clue turns up soon.”

  “Right. Let’s start right now by going for a walk,” Trixie suggested.

  “Oh, Trixie, remember what Tom said?” Honey reminded her.

  “I remember exactly what he said,” Trixie replied. “He said that we shouldn’t go wandering too far. So we’ll just walk around a few blocks from the hotel. Come on!”

  “All right,” Honey agreed. “But remember, let’s not go far. I’ll leave a note at the front desk for my parents saying that we arrived safely and that we’ll be back by four o’clock. That will give us plenty of time to dress for dinner.”

  Trixie groaned. “If we have to dress for dinner, I’d just as soon get lost forever in Saratoga,” she said mournfully.

  Laughing, Honey followed her friend out of the room.

  A Startling Discovery • 7

  AS THE TWO GIRLS began to explore Saratoga, Trixie’s dread of dressing for dinner vanished, and even their constant anxiety about Regan retreated to the backs of their minds as they savored the charm and history of the town.

  The girls walked down the street, pausing to look at shop windows that displayed everything from elegant-looking evening dresses to cheap souvenirs.

  “I have to remember to bring something home for Bobby,” Trixie said, “but I certainly don’t want anything like this. All those ashtrays and pillows and T-shirts are the same for every single city in the country, with only the name changed.”

  “That’s right,” Honey said, “and usually, if you look for a label, you discover that your souvenir was actually made in Taiwan or Hong Kong. We’ll find something for Bobby that really represents Saratoga.”

  Trixie giggled. “The only thing I can think of that represents Saratoga to me is a racehorse. I don’t imagine Moms would be too pleased if we brought a horse home for Bobby.”

  Honey giggled, too, at the image of the girls walking up the Belden driveway followed by a Thoroughbred stallion. “A racehorse isn’t the only souvenir of the track, Trixie. Even a copy of the racing program from the track would be a better, and less expensive, souvenir for Bobby than a horse he couldn’t ride. But you’re forgetting that the track isn’t the only thing that Saratoga is famous for. Saratoga was a very famous town long before there were horse races here.”

  “The horses are the only thing I know about,” Trixie admitted. “What else is Saratoga famous for?”

  “Oh, Trixie, don’t you remember studying the Battle of Saratoga in American history class? Actually, there were two Battles of Saratoga. In the second one, the American soldiers were attacked by the British under General Burgoyne. The Americans forced him to retreat to Saratoga, surrounded him, and finally got him to surrender. That battle is known as the turning point of the Revolutionary War. One of the big heroes for the American side was Benedict Arnold, who was a great general with the Continental Army before he became a traitor.”

  The girls had gradually slowed their steps as Honey spoke, and now Trixie stood stock-still, open-mouthed with surprise. “Why, Honey,” she said, “you’re no better in American history than I am. How do you remember so much about the Battle of Saratoga? I mean, I remember studying all those things, now that you mention them, but I certainly wouldn’t have been able to rattle them all off the way you just did.”

  Honey laughed and hugged her friend. “You’re forgetting that I had already visited Saratoga with my parents when we studied ‘all those things’ in class. That makes a big difference. To you, the Battle of Saratoga was just words on the page of a textbook. To me, it was a story about a place I’d visited and enjoyed. That made it as easy to remember as the legends of Rip Van Winkle and the early Dutch settlers, like the ones old Brom told us.”

  Trixie nodded. “I have no trouble remembering old Brom’s stories. Some of the scarier ones can keep me awake at night even now, if I happen to think of them when I’m lying in bed. He makes history seem so—well, personal, I guess. What else do you know about the history of Saratoga?”

  The girls began to walk again as Honey organized her thoughts. “Let’s see,” she said slowly. “Well, the name of the town comes from an Iroquois Indian word that means ‘place of the swift water.’ It was the swift water—the natural mineral springs—that first turned Saratoga into a resort town. People discovered the springs even before the Revolutionary War, and they thought that bathing in the water or drinking it could cure just about any disease or ailment. Even George Washington once came here for ‘the baths,’ as they were called.”

  Trixie giggled. “Almost every town in the East has a hotel or a home that has a sign: WASHINGTON slept here. But only Saratoga can say, Washington bathed here!”

  Honey nodded, her eyes twinkling with laughter. “Every time I think about George Washington coming here for the baths, I picture him as he looks on the dollar bill, with his white-powdered wig and that stern look—only he’s wearing modern-style bathing trunks like the ones Jim and Mart and Brian wear when we go for a swim. Isn’t that an awful way to picture the father of our country?”

  Trixie was laughing so hard that she had to lean against the building they’d been walking past. She wrapped her arms around her body, holding her stomach. Some of the people walking by cast worried looks in her direction, then smiled to themselves as they realized that amusement, not illness, was the reason for her unusual posture. Honey was laughing, too, although her self-consciousness kept her from becoming as carried away as her sandy-haired friend.

  Gradually Trixie regained her composure, although an occasional giggle would escape as the image of George Washington in swimming trunks again flashed through her mind.

  “Oh, Honey,” she gasped, “I don’t know if I dare ask you any more questions about Saratoga. I don’t think I could stand to laugh that hard again!”

  The girls walked on, looking at the old and new buildings standing side by side and at the bustling crowds of people on the sidewalks and the long lines of traffic on the street.

  “We should be playing the license-plate game,” Trixie observed. “I’ve seen cars from almost every state in the East, and from many states in the Midwest and even from the West Coast.”

  Honey nodded. “August is the big month at Saratoga, because of the races. It’s hard to believe, but for most of the year, Saratoga is a quiet little town not much bigger than Sleepyside. Then, during August, the population doubles and the excitement begins.”

  Trixie whistled. “I can’t imagine what would happen if Sleepyside doubled in size practically overnight.”

  “Saratoga has been a resort town for a long, long time,” Honey reminded her. “The people here know how to handle the crowds. In fact, the town depends on them. It was a man named Gideon Putnam who started the whole thing, really. He figured out what a great attraction the mineral baths could be, so he built a hotel here and started advertising all the cures that he thought were possible from bathing in the waters, and people started coming up from New York City.

  “But if you think all the cars that are here from all over the country are impressive, Trixie, imagine what Saratoga was like during the e
ighteen hundreds,” Honey continued. “From what Daddy has told me, it seems that everyone who was rich and famous stayed here. Napoleon Bonaparte’s brother came all the way from France to visit Saratoga!

  “Back then, people really did come here as much to be seen as to see the sights. Every afternoon at three o’clock, people dressed in their fanciest clothes and went for a carriage ride down Broadway, here, or out along Union Avenue to Saratoga Lake.”

  Trixie closed her eyes, trying to imagine the scene. “It’s fun to imagine, Honey,” she said, “but I’m glad I wasn’t here. All that dressing up—ugh!”

  Honey smiled. “Even I would have been uncomfortable in those parades. There really was a lot of competition to see who could make the biggest splash. It wasn’t just the clothes, either. Everyone tried to outdo everyone else in having the fanciest carriage pulled by the most beautiful horses. People didn’t drive their own carriages, of course. They had drivers to do that, and they even tried to outdo each other in giving their drivers the fanciest uniforms to wear.”

  Trixie wrinkled her nose. “I think it sounds downright boring,” she said. “They probably spent all morning getting into all those clothes, fixing their hair, inspecting their horses and carriages. Then they spent the afternoon sitting in the carriages, riding up and down the street—without even having the fun of driving themselves. No wonder they started going to the races. They must have been dying for something to do!”

  “That must have been what John Morrisey thought,” Honey said. “He was the man who brought horse racing to Saratoga. He built the first race track here back in 1863, and a year later he opened the track that we’ll be going to, where the races are still held. That makes Saratoga the oldest track that’s still operating in the whole country! In fact, one of the biggest stakes races here, the Travers Cup, was started in 1864, eleven years before the first Kentucky Derby!”