Mama Rides Shotgun

Carlos and I went looking for Doc, and found Joh

Belle left to help Trey move their big RV and horse trailer to the evening’s campsite. Carlos and I stopped arguing long enough to agree we should find Doc to ask him what happened to Lawton’s cup. We’d left our horses in Maddie’s care. Mama and Marty were pitching in with Sal, helping leapfrog our vehicles and equipment ahead to tonight’s camp.

“Hey, Joh

He shook his head as he kept walking. “Not since breakfast, but I’ve been busy.’’

“I don’t suppose you’ve got a bag of chips or an extra sandwich hanging around in the trailer, do you?’’ I asked.

“Nope, sorry.’’ He didn’t break stride, merely shifted the pans so he could watch the ground for holes or horse paddies. “Lunch ended more than a half-hour ago.’’

To be honest, he didn’t sound all that sorry. I wondered if Mama still had that pack of crackers she offered me on the trail?

“No problem,’’ I said. “Last night, Mama got somebody to rustle up a late di

He stopped and looked around the tins at me. “You’re Rosalee’s girl, aren’t you?’’

I nodded.

“Well, why didn’t you say so? I’ll get you a couple of pork sandwiches out of the stash I hid for myself.’’ He rubbed the swell of his stomach above his belt. “I sure don’t need ’em. I’m getting as fat as a fixed dog.’’

“I couldn’t take your food,’’ I said, knowing I’d do just that if he offered again.

“I insist.’’

Thank God!

“Audrey!’’ He put the tins on a folding table and yelled toward the trailer. “Bring a couple of those leftover sandwiches out here, would you?’’

He raised his eyebrows at Carlos. “Can I get you anything?’’

“No, Mace is the one with the hollow leg. She’s always hungry.’’ He leaned past me and offered his hand to Joh

As the two men shook, I said, “I’m sorry, hunger must have fogged up the ma

Joh

“Hell, Mace, I ain’t that old.’’

“Carlos is a police detective,’’ I said, watching Joh

To my surprise, his smile broadened, though it still didn’t light those almost black eyes.

“A detective, huh? I got a nephew on the job up in Pensacola. I sure admire what y’all do. But it can be dangerous, can’t it? I think I’ll stick to the barbecue business. So far as I know, a pork rib never learned to aim a gun.’’

He glanced toward the trailer again.

“Audrey! Where the hell are them sandwiches? We don’t have all day.’’

“Hold your horses, you old grouch.’’ A pretty woman in her forties with short hair and lively eyes hurried down the steps of the trailer, two foil-wrapped sandwiches in her hand. She smiled at me. “You must have something on Joh

“Go on now, woman!’’ He took the sandwiches and waved her away. Audrey didn’t budge. “She thinks she can talk to me thataway because she’s worked for me forever. But if she makes me mad enough, I just might fire her.’’ His voice was gruff, but his mouth curved with the hint of a smile. It was the first one I’d seen to reach his eyes.

Audrey cupped her hand to her mouth, secret-style. “He wouldn’t survive two days without me,’’ she said in a stage whisper.

“That’s what you think, you uppity woman. You can be replaced. Just keep testing me,’’ he grumbled as he gathered up the serving trays and stalked off. “Enjoy the sandwiches.’’

I turned to offer my sympathies to Audrey for having such a crabby boss, when the joke I was about to crack died in my mouth. She was looking after Joh

I filed away the observation. Audrey might have an interesting viewpoint to share on how Joh

___

“There’s Doc, up ahead in that mule wagon. Passenger side.’’

I nodded toward a bright green wagon in front of us. An American flag waved from one rear corner; Florida’s red-on-white colors flew from the other. The wagon, about fifty yards ahead of Carlos and me, was listing to the right. The driver was a ski

“C’mon, let’s catch up,’’ I said, lifting Val’s reins as I clucked my tongue.

Carlos’ thoroughbred didn’t need much encouragement. The big bay was off, like the racehorse he must have been. I admired the view from the rear. The man’s butt barely left the saddle; he moved like he was melded onto the horse. Marty was right. Carlos rode like a dream. I dug in my heels and brought Val alongside.

“Hey, cowpoke, wait up. Sorry, I guess that should be ‘guabero.’’’

He winced.

“Pronunciation’s that bad, huh?’’

“Guajiro. Gwa-yee-row,’’ he sounded it out for me.

I had a flash of the two of us in his kitchen one morning, fooling around as he made me breakfast. Picking up common items, he’d drilled me in Spanish: café, he said, holding up a vacuum-packed bag of strong Cuban coffee. Cuchara, he said, handing me a spoon. Beso, he whispered, as he leaned down and gave me a kiss.

Oh, crap. Why had I screwed things up?

“Listen, let me do the talking with Doc,’’ I said, more sharply than I intended.

“Whatever you say, Mace. You’re the boss.’’

“No offense,’’ I semi-apologized.

“None taken,’’ he said with his irritating smirk.

I eased Val closer to the wagon. “Afternoon, Doc,’’ I said. “Enjoying the ride?’’

The Oak Ridge Boys’ gospel classic, “I’m in Love With Jesus,” blasted from a CD player in the front of the wagon. The driver sang along. His volume was in inverse proportion to his talent. I had a moment’s sympathy for the non-believing Doc.

“Hello, Mace.’’ Doc raised his voice, hunching up his shoulders to protect his ears. “Where’s your mother?’’

“She and my sisters are riding along somewhere, yakking it up.’’ After three days of Mama all to myself, I was more than happy to let Marty and Maddie enjoy her company for a while.

I performed quick introductions. Doc’s brow wrinkled when I mentioned Carlos was a police detective.

“I hope you’re not still on that kick about Lawton’s cause of death, Mace.’’

I was trying to think of what to say about my “kick’’ when Carlos butted in.

“Mace told me Lawton was using a cup just before he died. I agree with her it should be tested, if only to allay any doubts that anyone, including his family, might have.’’

Leave it to him to come right to the point. And, so much for letting me do the talking.