Mama Rides Shotgun (12 page)

Maddie and I struggled
to keep up with Trey. We might have lost him running through the woods if not for the bobbing light from the lantern in his hand.

“Where’s he headed, Mace?’’ Maddie panted behind me. The beam of her flashlight skittered across the ground.

“How should I know? He didn’t take the time to tell me.’’

When Maddie announced Belle was missing, Trey pushed away from me like he’d been slapped. He grabbed the lantern off the ground and ran off without a word.

I ducked under the low branch of a red maple sapling, and then heard Maddie hit it head-on.

“Ouch! Crap!’’

I slowed a bit to let my big sister catch up. “Sorry.’’

“A little help would be nice, Mace. You’re the woodland creature, not me. You might warn me when one of your leafy friends is about to decapitate me.’’

I could have told Maddie she’d do better in the woods—in most places, in fact—if she’d spend more time with her eyes open and her mouth shut. But I held my tongue.

“I bet he’s headed to Belle’s campsite,’’ she said. “After I checked on Marty, I was passing by and saw Belle’s camp neighbors standing around like they didn’t know what to do next. They called out to ask me if I’d seen her anywhere.’’

The bobbing light ahead came into a clearing, slowed, and then stopped.

“Watch that skunk vine, Maddie.’’ I pointed my own light over my shoulder, illuminating a low-hanging net of green. “On your right.’’

She ducked, and the noxious-smelling vine just brushed her shoulder.

“Thanks.’’ Maddie leaned over, hands on knees, to catch her breath. She gazed toward the clearing. “I think that’s Belle’s site. I recognize the fancy RV.’’

Trey stood with the lantern, talking to a man and woman next to a big RV, dark green with a white stripe. The door on the RV gaped open, spilling light from inside. A matching horse trailer butted up behind the big rig.

Maddie and I joined the three of them.

“Did she say anything to you? Anything at all?’’ Trey was questioning the woman, a frizzy-haired blonde with a saddle-leather face.

“She never said a word. We were watching her, wondering whether we should come over and say something about y’all’s daddy. But then Bobby told me we should mind our own business, that if Belle wanted to talk, she’d come to us. Next time I looked over, her horse was still tied to the trailer, but your sister was nowhere in sight.’’

“How long ago was this?’’ Trey said.

“More than two hours now.’’ She turned to the heavy-set man next to her, Bobby presumably. “I told you we should have come over.’’

Bobby studied the ground.

“What can we do, Trey?’’ I asked. Concern was etched on his face.

“I don’t want to make too much of this. Belle has a tendency to go off on her own.’’ He glanced toward her horse, a black-and-white gelding tethered to the trailer. “But I can’t imagine her leaving Poco like that.’’

We all walked over to get a closer look at the horse. He stood patiently on a halter and rope, still wearing his saddle. His bridle was off, hung on a hook on the side of the trailer. Two buckets were on the ground, but neither of them held food or water.

Trey shook his head. “She’d never go off without seeing Poco was taken care of. Belle’s crazy about horses. About all animals, really.’’

“Well, we can see to him, at least.’’ I nodded toward the horse.

Maddie and I each took a bucket. I shone my light into the back of the trailer until I found a plastic garbage pail filled with feed. Maddie shoved the water bucket at Bobby.

“Here, you look like a big, strong thing,’’ she said. “Why don’t you take this and go make yourself useful at the water trough?’’

I shot my sister a look.

“Thanks, Bobby. We’d sure appreciate it if you would,’’ I called, as he hurried away like one of Maddie’s scared seventh-graders.

“I want to help, too,’’ the frizzy blonde said to Trey.

“You could keep an eye out to see if Belle comes back. Don’t let her be alone, if she does.’’

I wondered why Trey feared his sister being left alone.

He continued, “Belle and I know these woods front to back. I’m going to go look for her. There is one other thing you could do, ma’am.’’

“Jan,’’ the blonde said.

“I’d be grateful, Jan, if this doesn’t get around camp. My sister is having an awful tough time. She might just have gone off to mourn. I don’t want a lot of gossip about what Belle’s done or hasn’t done, or how she is or isn’t.’’

Trey sounded more protective than the average big brother. Had there been talk about Belle before?

Jan made a zipping-the-lip motion. “You don’t have to worry about me telling tales. I’m not one of them gossipy-type women. And, Trey?’’

He raised his brows at her, his eyes clouded with worry.

“I do want to say how sorry I am about your daddy.’’ She fiddled nervously with her hair. “And about us not coming over to see about your sister. I should know better than to listen to Bobby.’’

I quickly filled a shallow pail with sweet feed, and then started working at the cinch so I could pull off Poco’s saddle and blanket. I just about had it unfastened, when I noticed a brownish-red smear halfway down the horse’s neck. The stain stood out clearly against the white portion of his coat.

My mind flashed back to the merlot soaking the sleeping bag in my ruined tent. I leaned in to sniff at Poco’s neck. This time the stain wasn’t red wine. It was blood.

___

“Are you sure you don’t want to get some help?’’ I whispered to Trey as we crouched behind Poco, hidden from Maddie and Belle’s neighbors.

I’d discreetly called him over, and we’d checked for cuts or scrapes. Poco was fine. The blood wasn’t his.

“No. I can handle this,’’ he whispered back. “I don’t want Belle embarrassed by a lot of fuss if it turns out to be nothing. And I know where she likes to escape to. I want to look before we call in anyone.’’

Maddie walked up with a dirt-streaked face and a mallet in her hand. “The ground didn’t want to cooperate, but Bobby and I got up Poco’s portable corral.’’

This was a true feat, as my sister’s idea of physical exertion generally involves hefting the full slab of ribs at the Pork Pit.

“That’s great, Maddie. Trey thinks he knows where Belle might be. Do you want to come with us?’’

I could almost see Maddie’s mind working, distaste for the woods weighed against me discovering something she wouldn’t know.

Trey frowned at her. “Let’s go if you’re going.”

She nodded, and the three of us struck out across the clearing.

The moon was high in the sky now, the air not nearly as cold as the night before. Sounds carried through the quiet woods: the bark of a dog; the lowing of cattle; faint laughter from a far campsite. We rustled through the brush without speaking, Maddie’s and my flashlights trained on Trey’s path in front of us. My sister breathed raggedly behind me, but she was keeping up.

Soon, we came out of the woods to the bed of a mostly dry creek. In summer, when the rains are heavy, it would be full and flowing. But now, in the dry season, it was barely a trickle in many spots. That made for easier passage. We moved quickly through desiccated marsh grasses, so brittle they crumbled to fluff as we passed. We followed the exposed bank, dark and mucky, until the water widened.

Just ahead was a stand of bald cypress, shadowy sentinels gleaming in the moonlight.

“Belle,’’ Trey called out. “Honey, it’s me. It’s Trey.’’

No answer came from the trees.

“That’s where she’ll be if she left camp under her own power.’’ He nodded ahead as Maddie and I caught up. “We played here all the time as kids, trying to figure out which cypress knee looked like which TV star or rock singer.’’

“Belle,’’ I yelled, as we started into the trees.

A night heron’s squawk was the only response.

I was concentrating on the ground, trying not to trip over the root-like bumps of the cypress knees, when I heard Trey gasp in front of me. I stopped and raised my eyes to see what he had seen.

Belle lay face-up on the white, sandy soil of the creek bed. She was motionless. Her coppery hair formed a corona around her head, flowing like blood from the exposed sandbar into the water.

Trey splashed into the
creek, moving as fast as he could in boots and jeans across a deep swath in front of Belle. In the light of the lantern, his face was drawn and pale. He looked terrified of what he’d find when he reached his sister.

Maddie and I watched from our vantage point on the high bank, flashlights trained on the water to reflect the telltale glint of gator eyes. The last thing Trey needed was a hungry alligator on his hands. As I swung the flashlight back and forth across the creek, I thought I saw Belle move. But then she was still. No noise, not even a moan, came from the sandbar.

“Belle,’’ Trey yelled, as he thrashed into shallower water. “Belle!’’

This time I was certain I saw movement. As Trey climbed onto the sand, moving on hands and knees to his sister, she turned her head away. Firmly. I looked at Maddie to see if she’d seen the same thing.

“What the hell?’’ Maddie muttered under her breath, her face a picture of confusion.

A gator grunted in the far distance, hidden somewhere in the reeds. I swung the flashlight about, but didn’t see anything close enough to worry over.

“Belle, honey, look at me,’’ Trey put his hand on his sister’s shoulder, his voice a bit lower, a bit calmer. “It’s all right. Look at me.’’

Belle shook her head, her fiery curls wet and glistening in the lantern light. She turned her whole body onto her side, facing away from Trey. He stood, and called to us across the creek, “She’s okay. Everything’s okay.’’

Well, not really, I thought. His sister was stretched out on a sandbar in the middle of a creek close to midnight. She’d had her head half in and half out of the water, with who knows how many alligators lurking nearby. Something definitely was not okay.

“I’m going over there, Maddie.’’ I leaned down to unlace my boots. “I’ll cross about twenty feet downstream, just where the sandbar tapers off. It’s nearly dry.’’

“Well, you’re not leaving me here alone.’’ She grabbed me for balance as she began to take off her own boots.

Rolling up the legs on our britches, we waded into the creek.

“Ohmigod! I felt something slimy!’’ my sister said.

“Shush, Maddie. This is serious.’’

“I am serious. It felt disgusting.’’

When we reached the sandbar, Belle was sitting, her head resting on pulled-up knees. Trey murmured to her, too quietly for me to hear his words. As we walked up, she lifted her face. Her eyes were red and swollen. They seemed unfocused. I couldn’t tell whether the wetness on her cheeks was from creek water or tears.

“I’m sorry.’’ Her voice was barely audible. She swiped her fingers under her eyes. “I didn’t mean to worry anybody. I just wanted to get away. All day on the trail, people were so nice. They said how sorry they were about Daddy; asked how I was doing. Once I got to camp, it all just hit me. He’s really gone. I wanted to keep running into the woods until maybe I wouldn’t think about it anymore. Then I got to this place, where Trey and I used to play, and I thought maybe the water would wash all the sadness out of my head.’’

“Did it work?’’ Maddie asked.

Belle stared into space without speaking. “No,’’ she finally said, letting loose fresh tears.

My sister leaned over, surprisingly tender, and stroked Belle’s wet hair. I saw flecks of sand in the red curls, along with a flash of the motherly way Maddie was with her daughter, Pam.

Belle, sobbing, lifted her arms like a child. Maddie pulled her close. As Belle’s hands went around my sister’s neck, the lantern light revealed a dark, familiar-looking stain on the cuff of her long-sleeved, cream-colored shirt.

“What’s that on your sleeve, Belle?’’ I asked.

Holding out her wrist, she stared at the cuff like it belonged to someone else. As she turned over her palm, we could see a red gash from the heel of her hand to her pinky finger. Trey took a sharp breath. Belle looked at the wound blankly. I began to wonder if she was on drugs.

I gently pulled her hand toward me, holding it under my flashlight. She didn’t resist.

“That doesn’t look too bad.’’ I said. “You must have bled onto Poco after you did it.’’

Belle’s eyes suddenly widened. “Poco!’’ she breathed.

“Don’t worry. Mace and her sister and the folks next to our camp took care of everything,’’ Trey said. “Poco’s fine.’’

“How’d you cut yourself?’’ I asked.

She lifted her hand again, staring like it was the first time she’d ever laid eyes on it.

“Belle?’’ Trey prodded, when she failed to respond.

Maddie and I exchanged a look.

“I’m not sure,’’ she said, slowly shaking her head. “I remember I was getting Poco’s bridle off, and then I went to get something from the trailer. There’s so many sharp things in there, metal edges and pointy corners. I don’t even remember cutting myself. It doesn’t really hurt.’’

That could be drugs talking, I thought. A palm cut, even when it’s not deep, usually stings like the dickens.

“We should be going,’’ Trey said. “With all the horses and riders on our property, we don’t know what’s been in this creek. You should get some antibiotic cream on that cut, Belle.’’

Belle gazed up at the moon, which had turned the cypress branches silver.

“I don’t want to go yet.’’ She leaned back unsteadily, taking two tries to balance on her elbows. “I love our family’s land so much, Trey. It’s the place I feel I belong. The only time I’m really happy is when I’m out here, just walking or taking photos.’’

Trey said, “Belle’s nature pictures are in a big gallery in Stuart. Sell pretty well, too.’’

“Just listen to the sound the creek makes as it flows past,’’ she said dreamily.

We were all quiet, hearing the water gurgle and sigh.

“Isn’t that beautiful? That’s as familiar to me as the sound of my own heartbeat,’’ Belle said.

Trey smiled at his sister. “Belle, honey, we should go.’’

Ignoring him, she said, “When Trey and I were little, I’d come out here and sit for hours, wouldn’t I, Trey? I used to think the cypress knees looked like all the characters from the Care Bears. I’d tell the trees all my troubles.’’

“My daughter used to love the Care Bears,’’ Maddie said. “Pam’s not too much younger than you, Belle. She’s away at college now.’’

Belle didn’t seem to hear my sister.

“I love the water.’’ She trailed the fingers on her good hand into the creek. “I used to wish I could load my sorrows into a little boat, and then just watch them float away.’’

Trey said, “Let’s go, Belle,’’ with a stern edge to his voice. “We’ve put Mace and her sister out enough for one night.’’

“Despite everything, I miss Daddy, Trey. Don’t you?’’

Trey pinched at the bridge of his nose. I couldn’t be sure whether he was irritated at his sister, or holding back tears of his own.

Maddie got up and announced, “I think you two could use some time alone.’’ Her words barely seemed to register with Trey or Belle. “Mace and I can find our way back.’’

What that meant was I’d find our way back. Maddie had trouble navigating from the principal’s office to the parking lot. Fortunately, I’d spent a lot of time in the woods.

We’d crossed over, donned our boots, and proceeded a bit along the bank when Maddie finally whispered, “Drugs, don’t you think?’’

“I do,’’ I said, “but I don’t know whether that’s so bad under the circumstances. She seems grief-stricken over her daddy.’’

We were much younger than Belle when our father died. But I remembered Mama taking a regular dose of little orange pills in those first awful days after his heart attack. Maybe Doc Abel had given Belle something similar.

“I don’t disagree with you, Mace. But don’t you wonder about what Belle said?’’

I stopped in the clearing, trying to place whether a fence line I saw in my flashlight beam had been on my left or my right coming in. My right, I was suddenly certain. Maddie had been to my left.

“What Belle said about what?’’ I asked, picking up the pace as I followed the fence.

“All that about her troubles,’’ Maddie answered. “What kind of troubles could the pampered daughter of the richest man in three counties possibly have had?”