Mama Rides Shotgun (13 page)

I woke up cranky
after Maddie and I fought all night over space in her moldy tent. I hated to think how tight it would be with Marty in there, too. Maddie’s a bulldozer, asleep or awake. She’d probably roll our sister and her sleeping bag right out the zippered door.

“You snore, Mace.’’

“I do not!’’

“I heard it with my own ears. Sounded like somebody using a chain saw.’’

“You were probably hearing yourself, Maddie. When you got going, I thought there was a wild hog snuffling for acorns in the tent.’’

We brushed the horses’ backs and bellies, making sure there were no sweat- or dirt-matted spots to irritate them under their saddles. Despite our bickering, Maddie and I worked well as a team. We’d already fed and watered the horses, cleaned up and packed most of our stuff, and got the tent broken down. And we still had a half-hour before Johnny and his crew would start serving breakfast.

“I think I’m having the pancakes,’’ I said. “Are you getting biscuits and gravy?’’

She hefted a saddle onto her horse’s back. “I’m having both.’’ She licked her lips. “Lord knows I’m working off the calories.’’

Before I could come back with something sarcastic, I heard a rustle in the dry pasture behind us. My arm froze over Val’s back as I wondered if a horse brush would make an effective weapon. I turned to see who was there.

“Sal! You shouldn’t go sneaking up on people.’’ I let out the breath I was holding.

He was wearing another The-Duke-Meets-Elton-John cowboy outfit, only this one was burgundy. I couldn’t believe they’d made two of those rhinestone-studded monstrosities.

“Sorry, Mace. I don’t know how to act around horses.’’ He looked nervously at Val’s hind end, where I was picking some burrs out of her tail.

“Don’t worry about it,’’ I said. “But it’s always better to say something, give some kind of verbal warning.’’ Both for me and the horses, I thought.

“Your mother’s over at the chuck wagon. Her horse has some kind of problem,’’ Sal said, taking a long detour around Val. “Something about a toad. She wants to know if you know anyone who might be able to loan her another horse today.’’

Maddie and I were saddled up and off in a flash. I asked Sal if he wanted a ride, doubling with me for the short distance on Val. He grimaced like I’d offered to pull off his fingernails.

A small crowd milled around Mama’s horse, Brandy. Wynonna was there, wearing red alligator boots and tight blue jeans. Her highlighted hair was caught up in a bright red alligator-hide clip. She hunkered down next to Mama and a blacksmith. The three of them studied the soft padding on the underside of Brandy’s foot. The eyes of everyone else in the crowd were on Wynonna. I wondered how it felt having people stare at you every second.

“Is everything okay?’’ I called to Mama.

She waved her ring hand at me. “We’re fine, Mace. Brandy’s bruised her frog. Mike here thinks maybe it was that patch of spilled rock we went through, where they were fixing the highway culvert. Or maybe a beer bottle tossed in the grass out the window of somebody’s car. He says she’ll be fine with a little rest.’’

Wynonna looked up, concern darkening her lovely green eyes.

“I hate to see Rosalee miss the ride,’’ she said. “I told your Mama she can borrow one of our horses. One of Lawton’s men is loading him into a trailer right now. It’ll do Shotgun good to be ridden. He’s getting fat and lazy.’’

“Shotgun?’’ Maddie butted in. “That doesn’t sound like a horse a senior citizen should be riding.’’

Mama straightened, set her plum-colored cowboy hat firmly, and raised her voice to carry: “Why, Maddie, I’m still in my fifties.’’

That was a lie. She’d turn sixty-three on the Fourth of July.

“And I’ve been riding since before you girls were born.’’

Mama stalked off, as dignified as possible in plum-colored pants. It didn’t help that she was leading a limping horse and a three-hundred-pound Bronx cowboy in rhinestones.

Wynonna laughed. “Like I told your mama, pay no mind to that name. Shotgun’s the gentlest horse we have. Lawton should have renamed him, but it got to be a running joke. Not that Shotgun can’t go fast when you want him to, but he’s not too fond of it. And he’s even-tempered. He’ll walk a plank if you ask him to, just so long as he’s walking.’’

“Well, the name is stupid, then,’’ Maddie muttered.

“Watch it, Maddie,’’ I whispered. “The woman is grieving.’’

“How’s Belle this morning?’’ Maddie asked Wynonna.

That’s my sister: From frying pan to fire.

Wynonna’s mouth tightened. “I have no idea. Belle doesn’t clear her schedule with me.’’

Maddie said, “We just hope she’s all right, after last night.’’ I jabbed her in her oblivious ribs.

“Belle’s fine.’’ The voice belonged to Trey, who had walked up behind us. “She says she’s taking a break from the trail today. Wants to shoot some pictures of birds and wildlife along the Kissimmee River.’’

“Mornin’ Trey.’’ Wynonna’s voice was as sweet as cane syrup.

He nodded curtly, but kept his eyes on me. “They’re serving breakfast, Mace. Want me to get you and your sister a couple of plates?’’ Wynonna wasn’t included in the offer.

By the time we’d eaten and cleaned up, the Bramble ranch hand was delivering Shotgun. The pastureland was so dry, dust clouds billowed out from beneath the rig as he drove into camp.

Trey waved at the man to stop, then hurried to get the horse. The rest of us followed, watching as Trey untied Shotgun from inside, and then prodded him to back out of the trailer. Stepping calmly to the ground, the horse stood waiting—as docile as a pony in a petting zoo.

Trey patted the animal on the rump. “Shotgun, huh?’’

“Is that a problem?’’ I asked him.

“Not at all. Sweetest horse we’ve got. Belle trained him, and my little sister is a real horse whisperer.’’

Wynonna said, “Trey’s right about Belle. She and I may have our issues, but I’ve never seen a steadier hand with horses.’’

Mama and Sal were back, after making arrangements to have her temporarily lame horse trailered to the evening camp. Shotgun was saddled up and ready to ride. All Mama had to do was swing up and go. But first she needed a boost. She looked around and fluttered her eyelashes. Three cowboys, Trey included, stepped forward to help.

“Thank you kindly,’’ she said to the Brambles’ hand, who had leaped from the driver’s seat of the truck to give Mama a leg up.

Only I saw the self-satisfied curve to her lips as she settled herself prettily on the horse’s back. My boots would grow cobwebs while I waited for someone to help me into my saddle. Mama’s power over men still held in her sixties—that decade she refused to own up to.

She performed a couple of figure-eights around the cook site, getting used to Shotgun. A chestnut-colored quarter horse, he looked responsive. Without too much urging, she got him into a lope. He seemed eager to please. She ran him at medium-speed through a barrel-racing pattern, circling around the garbage cans at either end of the site. He turned well, cutting like a charm.

Mama waved at Sal, who beamed like a proud papa at her horsemanship.

Marty, still shaky and pale from her migraine, joined us for the end of Mama’s show. Wearing dark sunglasses, she nursed a cup of hot tea. She planned to drive Maddie’s car to catch up with us at the lunch site. We hoped she’d feel like riding again by the afternoon.

The three of us watched our mother in silence.

“She looks good on that horse,’’ Marty finally spoke in a whisper, wincing with each word. “What’s its name?’’

Maddie and I exchanged a look.

“Buttercup,’’ I lied.

The trail boss set
his hat and raised the shout, “Headin’ out! Headin’ ooooouuuuttt!’’

The morning air was sweet with the smell of orange blossoms and expectation. Leather rubbed and creaked on the saddles of a hundred-plus horses. Riders jostled, finding their positions as the day and the trail ahead beckoned.

I glanced behind me at Mama and Shotgun. The horse plodded along steadily. Mama seemed relaxed, already chattering away to the rider beside her. I dipped my chin at Maddie, motioning for her to turn around and look.

“Mama would talk the ears off a row of corn,’’ Maddie said, but she was smiling. “Did you get a load of that outfit on her fiancé this morning?’’

“Yeah, that get-up’s bad enough. Hard to believe, he has another one. Same style. Neon blue. I’m almost afraid to see what he’ll come up with tomorrow.’’

“You’d think Mama would have set him straight on what to wear.’’

“Are you kidding?’’ I said. “She probably helped pick them out. Did you see that plum-colored creation she had on today? Daddy would have fallen off his horse laughing.’’

“Nah, he wouldn’t have, Mace. Mama could do no wrong as far as Daddy was concerned. Remember how they were together?’’

I nodded, my mind drifting back twenty-plus years. I was just a kid when our father died of a heart attack. It was an awful shock. Daddy had hardly been sick a day in his life. But he’d gotten in over his head, trying to make a go of a cow-calf operation. Afterward, everyone said it was the stress of losing our ranch that killed him. That was one reason I was perfectly content drawing a regular paycheck from the Himmarshee Parks Department. Running my own business wasn’t for me. Too many headaches and heartaches.

My sisters must have felt the same way, because the school district cut Maddie’s checks, and Marty worked for the county library. None of us had set the world on fire. Then again, we all were healthy and relatively happy. Looking at the Bramble family, with all that money, I couldn’t say the same for them.

A pinch on my arm brought me back to the present and the trail ride.

“Mace!’’ Another pinch. “I’ve been trying to get your attention. Look lively, girl,’’ Maddie said. “And run a hand through that tangle of snarls you call hair. Carlos is right up there, on your left.’’

His thoroughbred tossed its head, raring to run in the cool morning fog. Carlos held him in with taut reins. His denim shirt strained across his muscled back and shoulders. Why did the man have to look so good?

“I don’t have anything to say to Carlos,’’ I told Maddie.

In the tent last night, before we went to sleep, I filled her in on my campfire humiliation. From Sharing S’mores to Flat-out Ignored. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to choke down another of those melted-marshmallow treats.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mace. If you want him, you better fight for him. He’s too good of a man to let get away. You’re not getting any younger, you know.’’

“Now you sound like Mama.’’

I didn’t want to remind Maddie she detested Carlos as recently as last summer. Back then, she said he was an arrogant S.O.B. with bad manners and a foul temper. Or maybe I’d said that. I’d certainly thought it plenty of times.

“Mace! Are you listening to me? This is a good time for you to talk to him. He’s all alone. You can get to him before that Austin tramp comes back and starts eyeing him like he’s the last biscuit in the basket.’’ She lifted her boot in the stirrup and smacked me in the calf. “Go on. You’ll hate yourself if you don’t.’’

“I might hate myself if I do, Maddie.’’

I could almost hear the parts clanking in her head. She was trying to think of a way to convince me.

“Why don’t you go ask Carlos what happened with Doc Abel?’’

She set the hook.

“Wasn’t he supposed to see Doc about getting that cup last night?’’

She reeled me in.

I spurred Val forward. “You’re relentless, Sister,’’ I said over my shoulder.

“I know. It’s one of the qualities I admire most in myself,’’ she said.

I quickly caught up, slowing a few paces behind Carlos so as not to challenge the thoroughbred’s racehorse instincts. I eased Val alongside him.

“Hey,’’ I said.

He turned in the saddle. “Hey, yourself. How are you this morning, Mace?’’

“Fine. A little headache-y from all that sugar last night at the campfire.’’

He raised his eyebrows. “What sugar?’’ he asked cautiously.

Oh, God! Did he think I meant I saw him and Austin kissing? Were they kissing?

“From the S’mores,’’ I blurted.

Relief flickered across his face. Bastard. He
had
kissed her. Of course, I’d been kissing Trey, and might have done more if not for Maddie interrupting us. I felt my face get hot.

“What about the cup?’’ I said, too abruptly.

He looked annoyed. “Do you purposely speak in riddles, Mace? You know, English wasn’t my first language. You should give me a break.’’

“You speak English better than me, so knock it off.’’ I made my words slow and distinct, as if I were addressing a small child: “What. Happened. Regarding. The. Chili. Cup. That. Belonged. To. Lawton. Bramble?’’

“Much better,’’ he said. “I asked Doc Abel for it, and he gave it to me. It’s already at the Florida Department of Law Enforcement’s crime lab.’’

“What . . . when?’’ I started to ask.

He held up his hand to interrupt me. I hated it when he did that.

“A friend of mine,’’ he continued, “an FDLE agent, owes me a favor. He drove down to meet me last night in camp, then took the cup and its crusty chili back for testing.’’

“Oh,’’ I said. “Well, thanks.’’

“You’re welcome.’’

“Did Doc Abel act weird about handing it over?’’ I asked.

“Not at all. But if he had, I wouldn’t have been surprised. Acting weird seems to be quite common around here.’’

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Yeah, it is. Along with acting like an asshole. Maybe you can discuss that with your new girlfriend, Austin.’’

He smirked at me, which really boiled my blood. I fingered the cow whip coiled on my saddle, and fantasized about snapping that smart-assed look right off his face.

“Mace, Mace,’’ he said, with a head shake and laugh. “You are so wrong.’’

“Please. I have eyes,’’ I said. “You and that girl looked like you needed to rent a room.’’

“It’s not what you think.’’

“You have no idea what I think. Why’d you even come on this ride anyway?’’

“I love horses. And I wanted to reacquaint myself with the pace and the people up here.’’ He frowned. “Have you asked all the other riders so rudely why the hell they came?’’

I turned Val away without answering. As I did, I saw Maddie, riding just out of earshot. She raised her eyebrows and motioned me a question: Thumbs up?

I looped Val’s reins on the horn of the saddle so I could use both hands to signal my progress with Carlos: Thumbs down, definitely. Double thumbs down.

___

Maddie knew me well enough to know I wanted my space. And, for a change, she gave it to me. I rode the trail alone, enclosed in my cone of self pity and confusion. I wanted to make things right with Carlos again, but I didn’t know how. Too proud for my own good, I didn’t want to appear desperate. I couldn’t stand the idea he’d see me as needy.

So where had my independence gotten me? Playing stupid games with a man I really cared about, and getting cozy with one I didn’t.

As Val kept a steady walk, I leaned low over her neck to whisper. “Like I told you before, girl, I’m an idiot.’’

Her head bobbed up and down, no doubt in agreement.

Before anyone could catch me discussing my love life with a horse, I closed my mouth and turned my mind to the passing scenery. We’d made our turn onto State Road 66, still moving east. Cattle grazed behind fences. A white bus from a church school putt-putted past, filled with the children of migrant workers. In an orange grove adjoining the trail, pickers climbed tall silver ladders to pluck the fruit from the highest branches.

Amid these symbols of Florida’s agricultural past were troubling notes from her future: A luxury SUV roared by, its driver unmindful that a hundred-plus horses ambled close to the road. Land-For-Sale signs sprouted like maiden cane grass on a creek bank. New housing developments dotted once wild spaces. Most of them had ironic names: Eagle Trace, where no trace of an eagle remained; Oak Grove, where rows of fancy homes had replaced ancient oak hammocks.

I was contemplating a teeming Florida peninsula, paved with strip malls from coast to coast, when I heard a voice beside me.

“Penny for your thoughts, Mace,’’ Mama said.

“You’d be overpaying.’’

“C’mon, honey. Cheer up. It’s a beautiful day. They say it’s going to get nice and warm.’’

“Great. That’ll make that long slog we hit by the dairy smelly, dusty,
and
sweaty.’’

“Don’t be such a sourpuss, Mace. Are you mad over Carlos and that trampy gal?’’

I shot her a warning glance.

“Maddie told me all about it.’’

Well, of course she did, I thought.

“Honey, that Austin isn’t any threat to you. Although I’ll have to admit she knows how to make herself up and fix those pretty curls of hers. I wonder if she ever worked in a beauty salon?’’

“Not helping, Mama.’’

“Sorry, honey. I was going to say she can’t hold a candle to you. Carlos would never be interested in a shallow, silly girl like that. Did you consider he might just be playing her along to see what she knows?’’

Mentally, I slapped myself on the forehead. I couldn’t believe I
hadn’t
considered that. And I didn’t give him a chance to tell me, one way or the other, before Val and I stomped off. I really
am
an idiot.

“No, I didn’t,” was all I said to Mama.

She peered at me from under her purple hat. The rising sun threw a plum-colored shadow across her face. “Now, there’s that smile I like to see,’’ Mama said, “even if it’s just a little one. We’ll get all that settled with Carlos and you, honey. I can see you need a little help . . .’’

“No way,’’ I tried to interrupt.

“. . . a little help with matters of the heart,’’ Mama continued. “I do have to say that making time with Trey Bramble in the woods probably isn’t the best way to get Carlos back.’’

Damn Maddie and her big mouth.

I steered us onto safer conversational ground. “How’s Shotgun behaving?’’

She leaned to pat the horse’s neck. “He’s a good horse, aren’t you, boy? I thought I’d take him up by the wagons, see how he handles. We’ll get Maddie, and ride together ’til lunch.’’

That sounded like a good plan. I had a bone to pick with my blabber-mouth sister.