Mama Rides Shotgun (24 page)

The parade was the
best ever for the Florida Cracker Trail ride. That’s what everybody in Fort Pierce said. When we made it all the way back to Harbour Pointe Park without death or injuries, I sent a little prayer of gratitude heavenward.

At the waterfront park, the bands and the barbecue were in full swing for our after-party. The sun shone. The breeze blew. Puffy clouds raced across a brilliant blue sky.

The air was a bit chilly, so I’d run back to the vacant field to get Mama a sweater from Sal’s Caddy. The staging area was chock-a-block with pickups and trailers. Riders fed, watered, and groomed their horses. Country songs blared from truck stereos. Pop-tops on beer cans went
Ssstt
. Cow whips ripped.

I stopped first to check on Val, who was contentedly munching hay by the horse rescue group’s trailer.

“Hey, girl,’’ I called, and added a whistle.

She raised her head, her bright eyes tracking my approach.

“You are the best horse in Florida, maybe the world,’’ I whispered, running my hand under her dark mane. “Thanks for getting me here safely.’’

She bobbed her head before returning to her hay. I think she was acknowledging the compliment.

I leaned over to inspect her legs and feet, making sure she’d be sound when I returned her to her owner. Aside from some major wear on her shoes, Val looked great. There was barely a mark where Austin “accidentally’’ smacked her with the whip. I could let myself think about Austin, and get mad all over again. Or I could breathe deeply and let it go.

“What do you think, Val?’’

She chomped her hay.

“You’re right. She’s so not worth it.’’

I was busy dusting my jeans of the dirt I’d gotten checking Val’s hooves, when I heard a rustle in the grass behind me. Discounting the prickle at the back of my neck as nerves, I slowly turned toward the sound.

“Jesus, Trey!’’ I exhaled. “You scared the vinegar out of me.’’

“Sorry,’’ he said, coming close enough to rest a hand on Val’s back. “I wanted to catch you before you left for home.’’

He was unshaven. Black circles underlined his eyes. His shirt looked slept in. But he didn’t smell of liquor, so I guess that was an improvement.

“Is your sister around?’’ I asked. “I’d like to speak to her about something.’’

“What about?’’

“I’d rather talk to Belle about it,’’ I said.

Carlos had told us that she never even asked him to meet me for the photo session at the mule wagons. It seemed that, like her stepmother, Belle was one hell of an actress.

“You can tell me,’’ Trey said. “Belle and I don’t have any secrets.’’

“Everybody has secrets, Trey.’’

He took a step closer. “Do you?’’ His voice was husky; his breath hot on my face.

I flashed back to the Golden Boy I remembered from high school. What I wouldn’t have given then to have Trey Bramble pressed up next to me, breathing heavily. Now, I turned away. Too much had happened for me to see Trey the way I used to.

“So that’s how you’re gonna be, Mace?’’

His voice had turned rough, menacing. I stepped away, but not before he snatched at my wrist. I tried to yank back my arm, but he held tighter.

“Stop it, Trey. You’re hurting me.’’

“You don’t know pain.’’ He intensified his grip. “I want to know what you need to see Belle about.’’

I’d had just about enough of Trey’s crap. I grabbed his wrist with my other hand and hissed at him through my teeth, “You’d better back off unless you want my kneecap rammed clear through your groin.’’

He looked at me in surprise.

“I’m as strong as many men, and you’ve let yourself go—physically, along with every other way. You do not want to test me, Trey.’’

Just as the pressure eased on my wrist, I heard someone call my name.

“Over here, Sal,’’ I yelled.

Mama’s sweater looked like a doll’s wrap in Sal’s big hand. His eyes darted quickly from me to Trey. I rubbed at my wrist. Trey stuck his hands in his pockets and stared at his boots.

“Everything okay, Mace?’’ Sal missed nothing.

“Fine,’’ I said. “Trey was just leaving.’’

Trey made no move to go. Sal waited a beat.

“Then I’d say he better get to it.’’ He clapped a hand onto Trey’s elbow, nearly dragging him off his feet. “Why don’t you and me take a little walk, okay pal?”

I watched the two of them move across the field, Sal three or four inches taller and nearly twice as wide as Trey. With his size, and the popularity of books and movies about New York mobsters, Sal rarely had to ask anyone twice to do his bidding. He never actually claimed to be connected, but he never denied it, either.

“What do you think, girl? Sal’s turned out to be a pretty good guy, hasn’t he?’’

Val swished her tail from side to side, chasing flies.

“Yeah, I think so, too. Mama’s lucky to have him.’’

The wind was gusting off the water again. The smell of barbecue drifted over from the park. I looked around the field. The crowd had thinned out, lured by the promise of dinner. I could nearly taste the swamp cabbage and smoky beef brisket.

I was almost finished sprucing up Val. Starting from the left, I began a once-over with a brush I pulled from the trailer. To make sure the saddle’s cinch hadn’t left sores, I stooped to check under her belly. That’s when I saw a pair of blue-jeaned legs standing on the other side of Val. They ended in tiny, mud-caked boots.

I straightened to see Belle Bramble staring at me across the horse’s back.

“Boy! You sure sneaked up on me.’’

“I photograph a lot of wildlife in the woods, Mace. It’s taught me to move quietly.’’

“I spend a lot of time in the woods myself. And I’ve never heard anyone that quiet.’’

Belle’s camera dangled from a neck strap. The afternoon sun glinted off the lens. A tiny alarm pinged in my head, though I wasn’t quite sure why.

“I saw your Mama’s boyfriend dragging Trey off,’’ Belle said. “Is everything okay? Where was he taking Trey?’’

What was it with these two?

“I don’t know, Belle. Trey went kind of loco on me when I told him I wanted to talk to you. Sal came along and figured he’d take him away for a little cooling-off.’’

“Will he hurt him?’’

“No.’’ I grinned. “Sal’s not as sinister as he looks.’’

She seemed relieved, but awfully jumpy. She looked around the field like she was waiting for someone.

“What did you want to talk to me about?’’ Belle asked.

I was done treading carefully. “Why’d you lie to me about Carlos and the photos?’’

She tucked her hair behind her ears, and then rubbed her hands up and down the front of her jeans. Her eyes darted in every direction except to mine.

“Well?’’

No answer; just more fidgeting. She ran a finger under the strap of her camera, easing its weight from her neck.

It was that camera that was bothering me. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, Belle. What happened to the nice leather case you had before?’’

She looked down like she’d never seen the camera before. She seemed spacey again, like she had that night we’d found her in the cypress stand. I almost felt sorry for her. Belle had issues.

“What?’’ she asked.

“Your camera case.’’ I pointed at her chest.

She took her time before answering, “I must have lost it.’’

“What’s wrong with you, Belle?’’ I could hear the exasperation in my voice. “Did Doc Abel give you some kind of drugs?’’

Her eyes jerked toward mine. “Don’t say that!’’ she nearly shouted. “Doc didn’t give me anything!’’

“Okaaaay,’’ I said slowly, wondering why she sounded so defensive.

“What about this morning then?’’ I asked. “Why’d you have me show up like a fool?’’

She bit her lip and studied the parade staging area. A CD of Kenny Chesney’s “Don’t Blink” ended, mid-song. A truck door slammed. Aside from some whooping trick-riders at the far end of the field, nearly everyone had left for the barbecue.

I felt a prickle of nerves at the back of my neck.

“Can we go somewhere to talk, Mace? I feel awful about misleading you this morning.’’

“We can talk right here, Belle.’’

“Fine.’’ She sank, cross-legged, to the ground. “I guess this’ll have to do.’’

I looked down for a moment to check the grass for horse paddies before I sat, too. When I glanced again at Belle, her green eyes burned into mine. She wasn’t fidgeting anymore.

She held a firm grip on a .22-caliber pistol. When she fired, it sounded like the crack of a whip.

“That was to get
your attention,’’ Belle said.

“You got it.’’

After shooting once in the air, she’d lowered the gun. It was now aimed directly at my gut. I swallowed a couple of times, forcing my fear back down my dry throat.

“It was you,’’ I said. “You shot Doc.’’

She nodded. Her eyes, hard as jade, showed no remorse.

“You’ve known him since you were a baby, and you left him in a pasture to bleed to death. How could you do that, Belle?’’

She shrugged one shoulder, like I’d asked why she chose scrambled eggs over fried.

The black lens of her camera was like a magnet, drawing my eyes in. Suddenly, some of the disjointed images in my head clicked into place.

“The bees were you, too, weren’t they? Mama heard leather slapping before they swarmed. You had them in your case. You must have smacked it against something to rile them up.’’

She nodded, with a crazy smile. “I used a broken bottle to scrape at Brandy’s frog. I thought the bruise would sideline your mama, and maybe the rest of you, too. But then I got lucky when Wynonna suggested she ride Shotgun instead.’’

“Because he’s terrified of bees.’’

“Right.’’ Another smile. “Beekeepers have boxes all over our orange groves. All I had to do was scoop some out and trap them in my case until the time came to make them swarm.’’

An image of Mama lying still in the dirt flashed into my head.

“You could have killed her.’’ My voice sounded small.

“I didn’t want that to happen, Mace. I like Rosalee. I just did what was necessary to get you to leave. I thought the rattlesnake would be enough, but y’all don’t scare easily.’’

All the questions I wanted to ask felt trapped in the parched gully behind my tongue.

“So now you plan to shoot me?’’ I managed to choke out.

She didn’t answer, just rested her wrist on her crossed leg, keeping the gun low and trained on me. It wasn’t big, but at this range it was deadly. “I’ll scream and yell.’’ I swallowed. “You’ll get caught.’’

She tilted her head toward the far end of the mostly empty staging area. Whistles and hollers came from the riders showing off fancy moves.

“Between that noisy bunch and this gusty wind, no one will hear you, Mace.’’

I weighed that, knowing she was probably right. I decided not to press my luck. If I made no sudden moves, maybe I could talk Belle out of whatever she had planned. Or, I might overtake her, if I got the chance.

“Was all of this to cover for killing your daddy, Belle?’’

“You’d never understand.’’

“Try me.’’ I looked deep into her eyes, trying to appeal to whatever feeling might be there. They looked empty, cold as green ice. I pushed away the thought that if Belle shot me, those might be the last eyes I’d ever see.

She gave a little sigh. “Doc betrayed me, Mace. He helped me get rid of Daddy, and then he wanted me to confess. I couldn’t do it. If I went to prison, who’d take care of our land?’’

I didn’t answer. My mind stalled on what Belle said about Doc and her daddy.

“We argued and argued about it. You heard me with Doc that night in camp, near your tent. I ran off before you could find us fighting.’’

“But what . . .’’ I started to say.

She interrupted, words rushing out like a dam had burst. “Doc kept pushing me, Mace. I had to shoot him, before he told and ruined everything. I learned something, though. It wasn’t smart to leave Doc out in the open like that.’’

“Wynonna found him.’’

She nodded. “So, this time, you and I are going to take a walk. You stick real close. Pull anything, and I’ll shoot you where you stand. You know I’ll do it, too.’’

I had no doubt she would.

“Get up.’’ She lifted the gun’s barrel, gesturing at me to rise.

“You should do like Doc said. Turn yourself in. He survived, and he’ll talk. What will Trey think of his little sister then?’’

Something flickered in her eyes.

“Trey doesn’t know, does he?’’

She shook her head. “No. But I did it for both of us. Trey couldn’t have done it. I love my brother, but he’s weak. Daddy always said so. And Trey’ll be the first to agree. Now stand up.’’

I did as she said. With her gun in my spine, Belle marched me toward the water. I took a last look at Val. I smelled sea air and the smoke from the brisket I wouldn’t get to eat. Spotting a channel marker in the waterway, I wondered if my body would float past it to the ocean on an outgoing tide.

My mind raced furiously, thinking up and discarding hopeless plans. I’d find a rock, I thought, and then realized Belle would shoot me in the back as I stooped to get it. I’d whirl, and kick the gun from her hand. And wind up shot in the face, with Mama mourning over my unsightly corpse.

When we got to the bank of the river, every detail imprinted itself on my brain. The purple flowers of a railroad vine, tangled in green leaves against the sand. White sails catching wind on a catamaran, heading for open water. The screech of a seagull, crying a warning.

In reflex, my bird-watcher’s eyes shifted for a moment toward the gull’s call. And that’s when I noticed the sun glinting off something golden. In the near distance, Austin crept toward us in her sparkly vest and sequined hat. She laid a finger to her lips, just as I’d done to her that night outside the Brambles’ RV. She lifted her other hand to show me a cow whip, tip snaking off onto the shell-flecked ground.

I raised my voice to Belle over the wind, hoping my face hadn’t betrayed what I’d seen.

“Please, Belle! Don’t do it!’’ I prayed that between the gusts and my yelling, she wouldn’t hear Austin sneaking up.

Belle cocked the hammer and put her finger on the trigger.

Austin streaked forward like a golden arrow, cow whip unfurling in a graceful arc.

I heard a loud pop, and my eyes involuntarily squeezed shut. Was I saved or was I shot?