The Mystery at Saratoga by Julie Campbell

his friends. But he was also a strongly independent man whose fiery temper matched his hair. It was very easy for her to imagine Regan’s growing impatience at taking curtly worded orders from the trainer and his feeling of helplessness at the thought that it would be years before he would be given full responsibility for the horses he was working on. Still, that wouldn’t mean that he’d have had to dope a horse. He could have just left, found a better job somewhere else. Unless—
    Unless , Trixie thought, unless he had gambling debts to clear up before he left. If he were in debt , that might have seemed like the only way to pay them off so that he could leave without being followed. She bit her lower lip, hard, to chase the thought from her mind. The real pain of her teeth digging into her own lip was better than the emotional pain she felt when she found herself doubting Regan’s innocence.
    “Is anything wrong, Trixie?” Mr. Worthington asked.
    Trixie shook her head. “I have a little bit of a headache,” she told him. “I guess there was just too much excitement this morning.”
    “I understand,” Mr. Worthington said. “But I’m sorry you’re not feeling good. You’ve hardly touched your hamburger. Why don’t you try to finish it? It might be just what you need to perk yourself up and get back in the spirit of things.”
    “I’ll try,” Trixie said, smiling across the table at Mr. Worthington.
    “By the way, what did you think of Carl Stinson?” Mr. Worthington asked.
    “He seems like a very knowledgeable person,” Honey replied.
    Mr. Worthington laughed. “That probably means that he hardly spoke to you the whole time you were with him. Carl isn’t much for talk, but he’s the best man with horses I’ve ever seen. I’m lucky to have him working with me. I trust Carl so completely that I can leave all the details of running the stables to him, and just concern myself with the buying and selling end of the business— and the excitement of watching the horses race, of course.”
    “What kinds of details does Mr. Stinson handle?” Trixie asked.
    “You’d be surprised how many there are,” Mr. Worthington said. “Of course, the main work of a trainer is training the horses—deciding whether they need tough workouts to make them give everything they have or light workouts to keep them from losing their speed and endurance before the race, for example. Some trainers don’t do much more than that. But Carl does much, much more. He makes sure that the horses are moved from track to track in the most efficient way possible, in terms of both saving money and saving wear and tear on the horses. He decides what food they should have, and he finds out where to get it at the best price. And, of course, he’s responsible for the rest of the staff. He makes all decisions on hiring and firing grooms and exercise people, putting on extra help when we need it and laying people off when we don’t. All I do is give him a budget. He decides how to use it. Why, right now I couldn’t even tell you how many people are working for Worthington Farms, let alone who they are or where they came from.”
    “Has it always been that way?” Honey asked.
    “Oh, not at first, of course,” Mr. Worthington replied. “But remember, Carl has been with me for twenty years. All of these responsibilities fell to him gradually. I’d say that he’s been fully in charge for the past fifteen years or so.”
    Trixie looked at Honey and raised her eyebrows. That let Mr. Worthington out as a source of information about Regan. The two had probably never even met.
    “Actually,” Mr. Worthington continued, “when I said I was lucky to have Carl working for me, I wasn’t being exactly accurate. Truthfully, I have Carl working for me because I’m unlucky.” He chuckled at the girls’ bewildered looks. “What I mean is that we haven’t been very lucky with our horses the past few years. The stable has just about broken