Mama Rides Shotgun

by Deborah Sharp

  Sal’s big head popped up from the back seat. His hair looked better than Mama’s. Maybe she should try his styling mousse.

  “Mace has a point about vandalism, Rosie.’’ He rested those ham-like arms on the seat back and leaned in close. “Men move right to physical violence; women often target property. It’s a known fact.’’

  Mama took some breath spray from her purse and handed it to Sal.

  “Don’t you remember that cheerleader at Himmarshee High, Mama?’’ I asked. “The one who was so jealous of Marty? When her ex asked Marty to the prom, the cheerleader threw acid on Marty’s Ford Escort. Marty had to drive it until she could scrape together the insurance deductible. Her poor car looked like a speckled Dalmatian.’’

  Sal squirted, and passed the breath spray back to Mama. She handed it to me.

  “I haven’t even been to sleep yet, Mama.’’ Offended, I tossed it back to her.

  “Couldn’t hurt, darlin’.’’ She put it in my lap. “And I do remember that cheerleader. I remember your sister couldn’t do anything about it because we couldn’t prove the girl did it. The Himmarshee Police didn’t take Marty very seriously.’’

  “Sounds about right.’’ Sal’s freshened breath hit us in the front seat like a cinnamon tsunami. “Unless there’s a threat of violence, or the damaged goods are super-valuable, vandalism’s the bottom of the totem pole for most cops. Maybe you should talk to Martinez about it when he gets here, Mace.’’

  The idea of talking to Carlos about anything made the two pieces of pie I’d eaten earlier somersault over each other. I swallowed my emotions, along with a tiny, strawberry-flavored burp.

  “He’s seventy-some miles out of his jurisdiction up here.’’ My voice was so measured, I might have been discussing interest rates, not the man I once thought I loved. “Besides, I’m going to handle it myself.’’

  “I don’t like the way that sounds, Mace.’’ Mama shook her finger at me.

  “Me neither,’’ Sal said. “You’re not gonna whack her, are ya?’’

  My mouth opened wide in a laugh, and I realized Mama had been right about that breath spray. I aimed a blast at my tongue. “Nobody’s whacking anybody. I’m just saying I intend to prove Austin’s the one who ripped up my stuff, then drenched it with wine.’’

  Mama and Sal were silent. Tired, probably. I know I was. As I wondered where I’d bunk for the rest of the ride, I glanced at Sal’s watch, sitting on the dashboard. Saucer-sized, encrusted with diamonds, the face read two-thirty-five a.m. I had to be up in less than four hours to groom, saddle, and water the horses. I expected Mama to help, manicure or not.

  But I wasn’t going to tell her that now. Now, I needed to be sweet since I had nowhere else to lay my head.

  “Listen, if you meant it before, Mama, I’ll take you up on your offer to sleep here.’’

  “Say no more, darlin’.’’ She vaulted over the seat with entirely too much familiarity for a woman about to celebrate her sixty-third birthday on the Fourth of July. “Sal and I will be snug as two bugs back here.’’

  I heard the rustle of clothes and blankets. Sal grunted. Mama oofed, as the two of them shifted this way and that, getting comfortable. Soon, she was snoring again. Taking as brief a glance as I could into the back, I was surprised to find they fit, given Sal’s size. My fingers covered my eyes like a kid at a scary movie, trying not to see too much.

  The last thing I remember before sleep was me pretending I wasn’t sharing a Caddy in a cow pasture with my mama and her beau—spooned together on the back seat like two teenagers.

  ___

  Mama sauntered to breakfast like a celebrity, bestowing pats and kisses in her wake. Sal trailed behind, her beefy bodyguard. Meal service was late getting started. I’d been holding Mama’s place in line for fifteen minutes, while she re-poufed her hair and fixed her makeup. I don’t know how she did it. We were going on our third day without a shower. I’d already scared myself earlier, when I saw my matted locks and dirty face reflected in the horses’ watering trough. Yet Mama managed to look like she’d just finished a beauty treatment at Hair Today, Dyed Tomorrow. And all with a few baby wipes, a teasing comb, and a tube of Apricot Ice. Her jeans matched her Western-style shirt, both in honeydew-green. They were spotless, too, since she’d managed to convince me she needed to find a good spot to call my sisters while I did all the work of getting the horses ready. Now, she moved as gracefully as if she were two-stepping across a dance floor. That was another thing that irritated me: Mama’s tiny enough to fit almost anywhere and get a comfortable night’s sleep. I’m five-ten. Sal’s car was roomy, but I’d still managed to wedge my head between the end of the seat and the armrest. My back ached and my neck had a crick. Had somebody hung me on a hook and used me as a punching bag when I wasn’t looking?

  My mood brightened a bit when I saw that Sal was also moving stiffly. Even so, I still had to rotate my entire body, just so I could watch anything else but Mama gliding around all chipper and ache free.

  Early-morning fog settled in the holes and gullies of the pasture. Horses pawed at the ground and snorted, their warm breath making puffs of steam in the cold air. The trail outriders were already saddled up, ready to supervise and set the day’s pace. Their orange reflective vests seemed out-of-place over cowboy garb. But much of the Cracker Trail snakes along the two-lane highways that cross the state’s mid-section. The vests increase our visibility, reducing the chance of a rider getting clipped by one of Florida’s famously bad drivers.

  I was thinking of the seventeen-some miles we’d have to cover to make our next camp, near Zolfo Springs, when suddenly I felt the pressure of a hand on the small of my back.

  “Who’s there?’’ I asked, because it hurt too much to turn my head to look.

  “It’s me. Trey.’’ His whisper was warm on my sore neck. “You didn’t give me a chance to explain last night.’’

  “And I don’t intend to.’’ I knocked his hand off my back and took a step forward. Lawton’s dog, Tuck, was with Trey. He plopped himself in front of me, wagging his tail.

  “Please, Mace.’’ Trey drew closer, trapped as I was by the dog. “I didn’t know what to do when Austin showed up,’’ he murmured, mouth against my ear. “She’s a loose cannon. We’ve been split for over two months, but she can’t get it through her head that we’re through.’’

  “She was wearing an engagement ring,’’ I pointed out.

  He paused for a moment.

  “I let her keep it,’’ Trey said. “God only knows how she’d react if I tried to get it back. Breaking my engagement to that psycho is the only smart thing I’ve done in recent memory.’’

  Trey stood so close his body heat warmed me. I could feel the hard muscles in his chest and shoulder. I imagined backing up just a step. I imagined how his arms would rise up, enfolding me in his warmth and soap-clean smell.

  “Trey, I . . .’’

  And those two words were all I managed to utter before Mama’s excited shriek rang out across the breakfast crowd.

  “Well, I declare,’’ she shouted. “Sally, darlin’, lookit who’s here!’’

  I whipped my head around, regretting it immediately, to see whose arrival had Mama so worked up.

  Carlos Martinez stood glaring across the now-cold campfire. It looked like all the sparks from last night had somehow found their way to his black eyes. And now that burning hot gaze was searing two holes, right through Trey and me.

  I barely had time to wonder why a man who’d “moved on’’ to Miami was glowering at me and my would-be new suitor, before Mama squealed again.

  “My stars and garters!’’ Her pitch was so high, Tuck shook his head and whined. “Now all three of my darlin’ girls are here!’’

  Maddie and Marty peered through the fog, trying to place Mama’s location. I stepped around Tuck and hurried to greet my sisters, leaving Trey standing in Carlos Martinez’s line of ire. The dog followed after me, chain collar jangling.

/>   “Mace! C’mere where I can get a good look at you.’’ Maddie’s voice cut through the fog like the crack of a cow whip. “Mama said some slasher ripped your campsite to shreds. It’s a miracle you survived.’’

  I had a moment’s satisfaction as a worried look crossed Carlos’ face. Until I realized Maddie was broadcasting my business to a hundred-plus hungry riders.

  “Hush, Maddie. Mama’s exaggerating again. It was minor vandalism—probably just a prank. And I wasn’t even in my tent when it happened.’’

  Carlos’s scowl returned. By the time I rotated my body back to look at Trey, he’d moved on. His face was mournful as he accepted condolences from folks in the breakfast line. I couldn’t be sure Trey had even heard my big sister. He’d be the only one in the camp who hadn’t.

  Maddie lowered her voice, but added her disapproving principal tone. “You mean Marty and I took off work and broke the speed limit all the way up here and you’re not even hurt?’’

  Marty punched her arm. “That’s not nice, Maddie!’’

  “Ouch!’’ Maddie jerked back in surprise. “You know that’s not how I meant it. Of course I’m glad Mace is safe. But we could have saved an hour’s-plus drive and the money for gas if Mama got her story straight in the first place.’’

  Mama, joining us just then, looked wounded. “It wasn’t my fault, Maddie. It was Sally’s cell-o-phone. It must have been a bad reception.’’

  I doubted that. Mama may not have mastered cell phone lingo, but she’d been getting her stories screwed up since long before they were invented.

  Rubbing her arm, Maddie grumbled at Marty, “I liked you better when you were afraid of your own shadow.’’

  Our little sister is still scared of a lot of things: snakes, the dark, closed-in places, and people who scream at each other in rage. But, last year, she got a big promotion at the library. Then, Sal shared a secret with her, showing her extraordinary respect. Ever since, she’s just as sweet as ever, but she doesn’t let Maddie push her around like before. It annoys the hell out of my big sister, which tickles me to pieces.

  I looked at the two of them, a cowgirl version of Mutt and Jeff. Big-boned Maddie, in a string tie and ankle-length denim culottes, towered over Marty. Like Mama, Marty’s tiny, except for a thick head of blond hair, which she’d swept up neatly this morning under a black hat. The cute jeans and silver-buckled belt she wore came from the little girls’ department at Home on the Range Feed Supply and Clothing Emporium.

  I fit somewhere between my two sisters: Not as pretty as Marty, but only half as mean as Maddie.

  “All right, you two.’’ I played peacemaker. “Y’all are here now. You can stay for breakfast, and we’ll find a couple of horses you can borrow.’’

  By this time, my sisters had spotted Carlos, watching us from the edge of the campfire. Of course, they knew all about our breakup. Mama’s never met a morsel of gossip she can’t chew. Maddie stared at him, and then raised her eyebrows at me. Marty looked confused and upset on my behalf. Mama, who’d left Sal holding her place in line, wriggled her fingers at my ex.

  “So nice to see you, darlin’,’’ she trilled. “You haven’t come to arrest me again, I hope.’’

  What might have been a smile made a brief appearance on his lips.

  “What’s he doing here, Mace?’’ Maddie hissed under her breath. “Hasn’t he done enough?’’

  I crouched down to pet Tuck, so Carlos wouldn’t see me talking about him. Welcome to high school.

  “Maddie, I told you, it was mutual when we parted ways,’’ I whispered.

  “Humph!’’ She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. “He could have tried a little harder. You’re not that hard to love.’’

  “Thanks, I guess,’’ I said.

  Marty stooped down, patting my shoulder. “You’re impossible not to love, Mace. And, don’t look now, but he’s coming this way.’’

  I wondered whether Tuck would respond to a Sic ’em command? If so, I wasn’t sure if I wanted the dog to go after Carlos, or just tear through my jugular and kill me on the spot.

  “Buenos días, ladies.’’ He smirked, giving us an overly courtly bow. “The four of you are looking lovely this morning.’’

  Oh, please. I almost preferred the surly cop from last summer, the one who’d wanted to toss Mama in the slammer.

  “Detective,’’ Maddie said, arms still folded.

  Marty nodded hello, smiling shyly before lowering her eyes.

  Mama stood on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

  Then everybody looked at me, waiting to see what I’d do.

  Luckily, I didn’t have to do anything. At just that moment, a long, loud whistle shut off all the conversation in the cook site. Tuck barked. Marty put her hands over her ears. I hunched up my shoulders, feeling a fresh stab of pain to my sore neck.

  “Listen up, everybody,’’ Jack Hollister shouted, as he clambered onto the oak log again.

  This was probably more talking than the trail boss had done in the full month before Lawton died. But he seemed to be growing more at ease in front of the crowd.

  “This fog is gonna put us behind schedule. But we’ll ride out as soon as it lifts, and we’ll make up the time this afternoon.’’ He cleared his throat. “And, uhm, Lawton’s daughter, Belle, is here, standing right over there with her big brother, Trey. She’s got something she’d like to say to y’all.’’

  Jack looked down, smiling encouragingly. My gaze followed his until I found Belle, leaning on Trey for support. He had a firm arm around her shoulders. She cocked her head, resting it on her brother’s broad chest. As fragile-seeming as a baby sparrow, Belle had obviously been crying. Her pretty green eyes were swollen, and rimmed with red.

  Trey squeezed her shoulders, and then nudged her to climb the log.

  “Hey, everybody.’’ Belle’s voice was low, barely a whisper. People strained to listen. Some even abandoned spots in the breakfast line to crowd in. I lost sight of Carlos in the shuffle.

  Tucking a wild curl behind her ear, Belle tried again, louder this time.

  “I’m so glad everybody’s here. Daddy would have been happy to know the ride wasn’t cancelled on his account. He loved Florida history, and especially the Cracker Trail. I can remember him telling us stories about the old-timey cowmen, hunting up half-wild cattle right here in this brush.’’ She waved her arm to the distance, taking in palmetto scrub and stands of sabal palms shrouded in fog. “Growing up, we always had a dog named after the cattle catchdogs Patrick Smith wrote about in A Land Remembered. It was always a Nip or a Tuck.’’

  Lawton’s dog, hearing his name, gave a little yip.

  “Remember Daddy reading to us from that book?’’ She looked into the crowd, her eyes meeting Trey’s.

  “I do,’’ he said, his voice thick.

  “Trey and I have decided we’d like to ride along with y’all for a couple of days, if you’ll have us.’’

  “Of course we will,’’ someone yelled. “Glad to,’’ shouted someone else.

  “Daddy left a capable ranch foreman in charge and detailed instructions about what to do in the event that he ever …’’ Belle paused, swallowing hard. “In the event he passed away.’’

  Trey stepped closer to the log, reaching up to hold his sister’s hand.

  “Anyway, there’s not a whole lot for the two of us to do until the funeral,’’ she said. “We’d like to honor him by riding along, honor how much he cherished our Florida land.’’

  Maddie leaned over to whisper in my ear, “‘Cherish’ might be too strong a word. I heard Lawton planned to carve up most of his land to sell as ten-acre ranchettes.’’

  “No!’’ I whispered back.

  “Hand to God,’’ Maddie said, relishing telling me news I hadn’t known.

  “Shhh!’’ Marty shushed us.

  Lawton’s daughter opened her mouth to speak again, just as a murmur spread through the crowd. People began to push and move this
way and that. Someone in the rear shouted, “Let her through!’’

  Belle put a hand to her forehead and peered toward the back of the clearing, trying to see what the interruption was. Heads turned. The crowd parted. Everyone stared at Wynonna, making her way to the front. She moved in fits and starts, stopping every few feet as people reached out with shoulder pats and comforting hugs.

  “As I was saying. . .’’ Belle tried unsuccessfully to regain the crowd’s attention. Most eyes were on Wynonna now, who was dressed in widow’s black from silver-banded hat to ostrich-skin boots. She even clutched a black neckerchief, which she lifted every moment or two to dab at her eyes. Finally, at the front, she stepped past Trey. Stopping at the foot of the log, she looked up to Belle’s perch.

  “Go ahead, sweetie,’’ she said, waving the black neck scarf up at Belle. “I didn’t mean to cause a fuss.’’

  Sure, I thought. And Eve never meant to tempt Adam with that apple, either.

  “Did you have something you wanted to say, Wynonna?’’ Belle’s voice was as cold as the ground under my tent last night.

  “Well, I don’t want to interrupt.’’ Wynonna was already climbing onto the log before her last word was out. Belle stepped down, yielding the spotlight to her father’s young wife.

  “Thanks, sweetie.’’ Wynonna smiled at Belle, who stared at the ground. “I know my stepdaughter told y’all that she and Trey plan to tag along on the ride. I wasn’t sure if she mentioned I’d like to come, too.’’

  Belle’s head jerked up. Trey’s mouth hung open.

  “Lawton’s business manager will follow his instructions in the next day or so. We won’t be missed. And I think doing what Lawton would have loved to do is the best way for us to remember him. As a family.’’

  “Belle and Trey look like they’d rather be mothered by a rabid she-wolf,’’ Maddie said in my ear.

  Trey’s mouth was closed now, his face a furious red. Belle didn’t seem as fragile as before. Her back was plank straight. Her tiny hands were clenched into fists. And the eyes she turned on Wynonna were furious, and filled with pure hate.