Mama Rides Shotgun

by Deborah Sharp

  Maddie kicked me. Marty stared at the ground. I switched back to my normal voice. “Maybe I should remind you, your ‘real’ police work last summer sent Mama to the slammer.’’

  “Hush, Mace!’’ Mama pinched my arm. “Let the poor man talk.’’

  “I just hate to see you wasting your time with stupid theories,’’ Carlos said.

  Last night’s Carlos was attractive; this morning’s version was pure arrogance. Maddie butted in before I could snap at him again. “What do you mean?’’

  “My friend pulled in a favor and got some quick analysis on that tasting cup Mace has been so interested in,’’ he said. “The results are preliminary, but it’s pretty clear. There was nothing in that cup but chili.’’

  ___

  I picked at my breakfast in a sulk. My sisters and Mama tried to point out it was good news that Lawton hadn’t been poisoned. And of course I knew that. But it irked me to be wrong. And it really irked me that Carlos had come to find me so he could crow about it—especially after our tender session in the woods last night. Maybe I was too sensitive, but did he have to act so superior?

  “Are you going to eat that pancake, Mace?’’ Maddie stuck her fork over my plate and speared a piece of my breakfast before I could answer.

  “Thanks for your concern, Maddie.’’

  “Oh, stop being such a baby,’’ she said. “You can’t always be right, you know.’’

  “That’s right, Mace,’’ Marty said. “Always being right is reserved for Maddie.’’

  “Girls, girls. If we had rooms, I’d send you to them,’’ Mama said. “Look over there, where Carlos is talking to the Brambles. Now, there’s some people with some real problems.’’

  Our eyes followed Mama’s across the breakfast crowd. She was right, of course. Trey shook his head as Carlos spoke. Belle’s face crumpled. Wynonna stood apart from the other two, head down as she listened, hands crammed into the pockets of a tight pair of jeans. Her boots were brown leather today, trimmed in fringe.

  Looking around, I realized at least half the crowd was also watching the Brambles. Nothing like living your personal tragedy in public. Feeling petty, I resolved to stop acting like such a jerk. And the resolution lasted as long as it took to see Belle collapse into Carlos’s arms, sobbing.

  “Uh-oh,’’ Maddie said.

  Stroking her hair, he murmured something private into her ear. The bacon and biscuit in my stomach did a double back flip.

  “You should go over there, Mace.’’ A worried frown creased Marty’s brow.

  “Honey, she can’t do that now. It would look wrong,’’ Mama whispered.

  Belle gazed up into Carlos’ face. He ran a thumb across her teary cheek. I remembered the feel of his hand stroking me.

  “I’m outta here,’’ I said, pushing my breakfast plate onto Maddie’s lap.

  “Mace, where . . .’’ Marty started to say.

  “Let her go, honey,’’ Mama interrupted. “She’s off to throw some rocks into water.’’

  ___

  I picked up a handful of stones and tossed them into the high brush as I walked through the woods. Swoosh. Swoosh. Swoosh. It wasn’t as satisfying as tossing them in a creek. But I didn’t have much time to sit and stew. The fog was lifting. The ride was about to start. And I had to finish getting Val ready.

  As I passed another campsite, I overheard two riders with out-of-state license tags on their trailer discussing Lawton’s death: “My money’s on that son. The boy probably got drunk and did him in.’’

  One handed the other a horse brush. “Nope. There’s a gal on the ride who’s some kind of detective. She says the father was poisoned. Poison isn’t a man’s weapon. It’s a woman’s. Everybody knows that.’’

  I had a momentary urge to update them. But I passed by, keeping my nose out of it.

  Val raised her head as I came into our campsite. Her eyes were interested and intelligent; two bright spots in my feeling-sorry-for-myself morning.

  “Hey, girl,’’ I nuzzled her neck. “I’ve done it again. You know what I am, right?’’

  She rubbed her big head up and down on my chest.

  “That’s right. An idiot.’’

  Maddie and Marty had already broken down the tent and packed up our campsite. Before they went to the rescue group’s trailer to prepare their borrowed horses, they’d saddled Val for me. She was tethered by her halter to the trailer. I felt a rush of affection for my sisters, and promised myself I’d try to be nicer, even to Maddie.

  All that was left for me to do was get Val’s bridle from its hook on the trailer.

  As I walked around my Jeep, I spotted something white on the driver’s seat. I opened the unlocked door and leaned in. On a single sheet of paper, a message was scrawled in childish block letters. I bent close and read:

  Dear Mace,

  Somebody wants you off this ride because you’re on the right track. Lawton Bramble was murdered. Don’t stop looking for his killer.

  I locked the Jeep’s door, touching nothing else. I’d swallow my pride and ask Carlos the best way to handle the note without disturbing any possible evidence. That is, if he could tear himself away from Belle long enough to give me an answer.

  By the time I finished with the horse and secured the trailer, I could hear riders shouting from the distant pasture. It was time to go. The trail boss would be gathering everyone into a tight line. He’d want us to stay close to safely cross the highway and continue on our way east to the noontime stop we’d make for lunch.

  Trotting up on Val, I found my sisters easing their horses into the middle of the crowd.

  “Have you seen Carlos?’’ I asked.

  Marty gave Maddie a worried look. Maddie studied the horn on her saddle.

  “Carlos went off with the family, Mace,’’ Marty finally said.

  “His arm was around Belle when they left. I’m sorry, honey.’’ Maddie’s kind tone sounded rusty.

  I pictured Carlos the Protector taking care of Belle, and knew it was what he was meant to do. Last night had been a mistake; I couldn’t compete with Belle’s kind of need. I wondered if they’d send me a wedding invitation so I could see her in that size-2 dress.

  “I didn’t need him for anything personal.’’ I worked to keep the hurt from my voice. “I’m just asking because I need a police officer. Somebody left something in my Jeep.’’

  Maddie’s brows shot up. Marty’s blue eyes went wide. I told them about the note.

  “It’ll keep until we can come back for the Jeep at lunchtime,’’ I said. “It’s probably somebody playing a prank. Everyone in camp seems to know my suspicions that Lawton didn’t die naturally. The news there was nothing nefarious in his cup hasn’t caught up.’’

  ___

  The Cracker Trail ride made a short detour to Dixie Springs Elementary. A student from the school was saddled up, riding with his cattle-raising father for the day. Like a living Florida history exhibit, father and son were still holding on to the old ways.

  School kids lined the playground fence and sat cross-legged on the front lawn. The rancher’s nine-year-old son was a jeans-and-boots-wearing copy of his dad, right down to the toothpicks stuck into the bands on each of their hats. He was the youngest in a group of whip-wielding cowpokes putting on a show.

  “Do it again, Tyler,’’ a little boy called out, as several girls put their fingers to their ears. “Make it crack again!’’

  Mama perched in a green wagon being pulled by a pair of little Haflingers. While whips snapped and children fed carrots to the gentlest horses, I ambled over to see how she was doing.

  “. . . and so that was my third husband,’’ Mama was telling the glazed-eyed driver. “Number 3 was a nice change from No. 2. That one had a roving eye, if you know what I mean. And that wasn’t his only fault.’’ She mimed tipping a bottle to her mouth. “I was glad to get rid of him, I’ll tell you that. But, anyways, back to Husband No. 3 . . .’’

  I doubted if
the poor driver had gotten in a word since we left Okeechobee County.

  “Hey,’’ I called. “Have you heard the latest?’’

  Gossip, along with butterscotch anything, is a powerful Mama motivator.

  “Hi, darlin’.’’ She introduced me to David, the wagon driver. “The two of us have been having ourselves the nicest chat.’’

  David touched his hat brim and looked at me with desperation in his eyes.

  “What’s up?’’ Mama asked.

  I told her about the note.

  “I knew there was something more to that fella’s death.’’ David leaned across Mama to talk to me. “People are saying he was poisoned.’’

  Mama waved a hand. “Oh, that’s what Mace thought before. But her ex-boyfriend, who’s a police detective, got a friend to test the chili in the cup Lawton was using.’’ She shifted toward me in the seat. “I don’t think Carlos would have done you that favor if he didn’t still like you, Mace. I just know you two can patch things up, honey. You’ll just have to try a little harder, be a little softer with him.’’

  David pulled at his collar, looking as uncomfortable as I felt.

  “Not relevant, Mama,’’ I warned.

  “Anyways,’’ Mama turned to address David, hauling herself back on track, “Doc ruled Lawton’s death a heart attack. There’s no formal investigation, so there hasn’t been an autopsy. And, now, with the lab tests, it looks like Lawton’s chili wasn’t poisoned.’’

  I thought about that for a minute. “Well, the chili cup we found had no poison.’’

  “Hmmm,’’ Mama said.

  “And the note in your Jeep definitely used the word ‘murdered’?’’ David asked.

  I nodded.

  “Hmmm,’’ he said.

  ___

  “These fields are going to murder my shocks,’’ Sal grumbled, as we jounced over pastureland torn up by wild hogs.

  I rode in the front seat; Carlos was in the back. He’d agreed after lunch to return to camp with me to look at the note.

  “Make a left at that clump of palmetto, Sal.’’

  “You have to be more specific, Mace,’’ he said. “It’s all just green to me.’’

  “The low-growing shrub with spiky fronds shaped like fans.’’

  “Thank you,’’ Sal said, as he maneuvered the big Caddy into a wide arc to the left.

  A wallow the hogs had dug out loomed ahead: a shallow, muddy bowl. “Watch out . . .’’ I started to say, just before I felt the car take a dip.

  “Crap!’’ Sal’s unlit cigar fell from his mouth.

  “Don’t slow down, Sal!’’ I yelled. “Just power on through, and you won’t get stuck.’’

  He gunned it, and came out safely on the other side.

  “Does anybody know where the closest car wash is?’’ Sal stared out the windshield at wild land stretching for miles. “Nah, forget the car wash. How far’s the nearest bar?’’

  Carlos leaned over the seat and patted Sal’s shoulder. “Hang in there, buddy. Just one more night left on the trail. We’ll be in Fort Pierce for the big parade by tomorrow.’’

  “Hallelujah.’’

  I said, “There’s my Jeep and trailer, under that slash pine.’’

  Sal looked at me blankly.

  “Sorry. Under that tall, lonely tree that looks like a hat rack with green needles and brown hanging things.’’

  He smiled as he eased his Caddy to a stop, parking a distance from my camp.

  As we got out of the car, Carlos pulled a plastic bag for evidence from his pocket.

  “Thanks for parking outside the perimeter, Sal. I don’t want all of us tramping around. Mace, can you remember how you got to your Jeep before?’’

  I nodded.

  “Try to take the same path as much as you can. I’ll follow your footsteps.’’ Looking around the campsite, he frowned. “It’s all grass here, though. Not so good for finding footprints, if it comes to that. It’d be better if it were dirt, or mud.’’

  “I know where you can find some of that.’’ Sal smeared at the muck on his fenders with a monogrammed handkerchief.

  I moved carefully toward the Jeep, picturing where Val had been standing and what direction I walked to fetch her bridle from the trailer. Carlos followed so closely I could hear him breathing; I smelled his scent. Even without a shower, he smelled good. Musky, with a subtle overlay of the spicy, clove-scented cologne he always wore.

  I’d tasted that cologne more than once as I kissed him on the neck. Which was just the kind of memory I wanted to push out of my head.

  I was within a few feet of my Jeep when I noticed a slash in the old canvas top. It was cut with surgical precision above the driver-side door. As I got closer, I saw the seat was empty. Somebody had reached in and snatched the note telling me to keep looking for Lawton’s killer.

  ___

  “You’ll never believe who stopped by with a gift for you, Mace,’’ Mama said.

  My sisters and I were gathered with Mama and Sal at Camp Cadillac. It was late afternoon, an hour or so before sunset, on the final night of the ride.

  “Who?’’

  “Guess,’’ Mama said, ensconced on her pillows in Sal’s back seat.

  “Mama, please. I’m not in the mood.’’

  I’d had to leave my Jeep and trailer behind. Carlos didn’t think it should be moved. If it turned out the stolen note wasn’t a prank, there could be evidence on or in the vehicle that might be important. Better to not take any chances, he said.

  I’d stowed as much of Val’s supplies as I could fit into the trunk of Sal’s car. He was a sport about it, even when the sticky horse feed spilled on the golden carpet inside.

  “So, who left me a present?’’ I asked again.

  Mama dug into a cooler in Sal’s front seat, pulling out a bottle of white wine. “She even left a corkscrew and glasses.’’ She presented two plastic goblets with a flourish. “Sal and I can share.’’

  “Who, Mama?’’ Maddie and I screeched.

  “Austin,’’ Sal answered, fingers in his ears.

  Mama gave him a playful slap. “I wanted Mace to guess!’’

  “Well.’’ Marty examined the bottle. “That’s strange.’’

  “Better check the seal to see if it’s been tampered with,’’ Maddie said.

  “She was really nice, Mace,’’ Mama said. “Austin said you’ve had a heck of a week. And she still feels bad about that cow whip, honey.’’

  A crack rang out just then, like punctuation. Over the course of the ride, the whips had become a background soundtrack. Novices had learned enough to make the leather snap. Old hands remembered how much fun whip-cracking could be.

  Mama continued, “She was at her granny’s, so she missed my terrifying ride on Shotgun. I told her how that horse and I were just standing there, as pretty as you please . . .’’

  “Mama, what else did Austin say?’’ Marty corralled her back on track.

  “Well, she just said she wanted Mace and me to relax and enjoy a nice glass of wine. She even brought ice to keep it cold.’’

  Mama hunted around until she found a cup for Marty. She handed Sal the corkscrew.

  “Austin, huh?’’ Maddie fished out her teetotaler’s bottled water from the cooler. “Will wonders never cease.’’

  Sal uncorked the wine, and then poured a bit in each glass. Mama, Marty, and I toasted our wine to Maddie’s water. We all sipped. Sal slid his cigar case from his pocket and lit up.

  “Mmm-hmm,’’ Mama said. “It’s almost as good as one of those raspberry wine coolers.’’

  Sal studied the bottle’s label, and took a stab: “Sue-Vig-None Blank.’’

  Maddie, who’d had a semester of college French, corrected him, “Sauvignon Blanc.’’

  “Here you go, darlin’.” Mama handed Sal her glass. “It sounds better when you say it.’’

  Sal was about to take a swallow when a scream shattered the festive spirit of our little party. W
e dropped our drinks and ran to the sound, which seemed oddly familiar.

  In a wide green pasture, under a sinking sun, Wynonna kneeled on the ground. She shouted over and over for help, her hands pressed to Doc Abel’s stomach.

  As we came closer, she looked up. Terror filled her eyes and blood stained her hands.

  “Please, you’ve got to save him,’’ she cried. “Somebody shot Doc.’’

  Doc Abel was alive, but barely, bleeding from a bullet to the gut.

  A helicopter was rushed from the hospital in Stuart. It now pounded the air above us. Riders looked to the sky, hands clamped tight over cowboy hats. The sun was almost gone now. Lanterns gleamed in the treeless pasture, marking off a makeshift landing pad. As the chopper descended, a search beam washed the scene in an eerie glow.

  “Move back, people,’’ Sal yelled as the crowd shifted, closing in again around Doc. “The medical team will need some room.’’

  ___

  When Wynonna screamed, we weren’t the only ones who heard her. People came running from all over camp. Cell phone calls to 911 must have lit up the lines at the county sheriff’s central dispatch. In the crowd, I saw Austin and Johnny Adams; Trey and his sister, Belle. The big-bottomed cowgirl showed up. So did the two teenagers, their eyes bright orbs. Sal hustled over, right behind my sisters and me. He and Carlos had taken charge until deputies from the Dundee County sheriff’s office could arrive at the remote camp.

  “I’m a police officer,’’ Carlos kept saying, as he elbowed his way through the jostling mass.

  Carlos did what he could for an unconscious Doc. A rider who was a nurse stepped forward to help, checking Doc’s vital signs and applying pressure to the gunshot wound. Then, Carlos assigned a few onlookers to help Sal with crowd control. The shooting scene was nearly impossible to secure. People had already trampled all over, beginning with Wynonna in her brown fringed boots.

  As quickly as he could, with the rescue helicopter still in flight, Carlos turned his attention to her.

  “Did you see who shot him, Wynonna?’’

  She shook her head, eyes fastened on Doc and the blood leaking from his gut onto the nurse’s rolled-up towel. When Wynonna turned her face to Carlos, tears streaked her cheeks.