Mama Rides Shotgun

Whispered murmurs followed me through the crowd at the di

“Excuse me, Mace?’’ The big cowgirl put a hand on my arm to stop me. She glanced over her shoulder, seeking support from her friend with the tight curls. “People are starting to get nervous about being on this ride. We were wondering if you’d found out yet who shot Doc?’’

I looked at her like she was crazy. “I have no idea. The place is crawling with cops. Why don’t you ask one of them?’’

“Well, the deputies are busy.’’ She fiddled with a braid. “We heard about that note you got telling you Lawton Bramble was murdered. Everyone says you’ve solved a lot of murders.’’

I was about ready to commit a murder. This gossip was getting out of hand. I was certain that, somehow, Mama was behind it. I sca

“I don’t know any more than the next person about what happened,’’ I told the cowgirl.

“So you don’t know who did it?’’

“Not a clue.’’

She turned to shake her head at her friend and who knows how many other people looking on from the crowd.

“Well, I think I know what happened,’’ she said, turning back to me.

Of course you do, I thought.

“I think that cook, Joh

“That sounds like a really good theory,’’ I said. “You should share it with Detective Martinez. That’s Carlos Martinez, from Miami. He’s riding the big black thoroughbred.’’

Puffing out her chest, she strutted away. With any luck, she’d find Carlos and the sheriff together, and regale both of them with her take on events.

Seeing Maddie and Marty in the crowd, I crossed the di

“Where’d you lose your new best friend, Austin?’’ Maddie asked.

“You don’t want to know,’’ I said. “What’s the deal with this big crowd of riders? Is Joh

“No, despite the fact that a few of us are starving,’’ Maddie grumbled. “Trail boss called a meeting.’’

“I’m sure Doc would feel awful if he knew that him getting shot meant you’d be forced to wait on di

“Sisters, sisters.’’ I took up Marty’s usual refrain. “You can fight later. You’ll never believe what I just saw over at the Brambles’ RV.’’

Just then, the crowd started jostling and shushing, making a path for Jack Hollister. He climbed onto the open gate of a pickup truck and cleared his throat a couple of times.

“I’ll bet he’s going to a

“He’s probably going to say he’s had enough,’’ I said under my breath. “I’ve already seen a few folks packing up to leave. Jack’s about to hand the boss’s reins back to David Reed.’’

Marty clutched at my hand. “What if he says Doc Abel died?’’

When Jack said Doc was still hanging on, applause rippled through the crowd. A chorus arose of thank Gods. As he a

“We’ll be riding out in the morning.’’ He looked to his right, where Sheriff Roberts stood. The lawman nodded, toothpick bobbing. “We’ve got well over a hundred horses and almost two hundred people on a schedule here. All of downtown Fort Pierce is geared up for a big parade tomorrow. The food booths and craft shows and tents are already up at the city’s waterfront. Everything’s ready for the Cracker Trail celebration.’’

Jack glanced to his left. When he saw Carlos, hurling visual daggers, he quickly looked away.

“Now, many of you have said you want to finish. And this is the sheriff’s decision to make.’’ Jack paused for effect. “He says we can go ahead, so, that’s what we’re go

Jack gazed out at the crowd. A mom with two young kids nodded forcefully while a girly looking guy tugged at his hat and stared at his boots.

“That’s fine. You’ll just have to check in with the sheriff before you go. They’ll be doing interviews all night long in my trailer. I’ll apologize in advance for any of you who might lose some sleep tonight. But these questions are important to help find out who shot Doc.’’

Sheriff Roberts gave Jack a curt nod.

“Okay, then. Joh

“How about a prayer for Doc?’’ someone yelled.

“Good idea,’’ Jack said. “Let’s all bow our heads and ask the good Lord to guide those doctors and nurses in doing what’s best for Doc.’’

As we lowered our heads and closed our eyes, I wondered how many others would add my own silent plea: Let us make it safely to the end of the trail in Fort Pierce.

After Jack finished and climbed off the truck, I caught up with Carlos. A bad mood had settled on him like a fog.

“You don’t look happy,’’ I said.

“That Dundee County idiot is compromising his own investigation,’’ he hissed.

“Why don’t you say it a little louder?’’ I said. “I don’t think you’ve managed to piss off all of local law enforcement.’’

“Have you seen the crime scene, Mace? They didn’t even have the tape up until a half-hour ago.’’

I thought about the note, telling me I was on the right track. I didn’t suppose this was the time to remind Carlos that if anyone had listened to me about Lawton Bramble’s death being suspicious, that maybe we wouldn’t have a second crime scene.

“Well, they’re doing interviews. That’s a good sign, right?’’ I asked.

“Yeah, right,’’ he smirked. “I’m sure those bumbling Barney Fifes are crack interrogators.’’

Now I was starting to get irritated. I rose to the defense of my country cousins.

“You know, Mr. Miami Big Shot, just because they’re in a rural area doesn’t mean they’re idiots. I’m sure the Dundee County sheriff’s office solves plenty of crimes.’’

“Hah!’’ he said. “Cattle rustling? Or maybe crop stealing? We handled more serious crime in Miami before lunch than they do all year.’’

“I’m rolling my eyes, in case you want to know,’’ I said. “A high crime rate in your community is hardly something to brag about, Carlos. And I’d think you would know that better than anyone.’’

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wished I could take them back. He looked like I’d slapped him.

“I can’t believe you’d bring that up, Mace.’’ Pain laced his voice. “I told you in confidence about what happened to my wife.’’

“I’m so sorry, Carlos.’’ I put a hand on his arm; he shook it off. “I didn’t even know what I was saying. You made me mad by implying that all of us north of Lake Okeechobee are dumb rednecks.’’

“Well, if the shit-kicker’s boot fits—’’

I bit back an insulting retort. No sense in making things worse. I’d already taken our tiff as low as I could by bringing up the tragedy that had sent Carlos packing for Himmarshee in the first place.

“Listen, I don’t want to fight with you,’’ I said.

He looked at me, his eyes full of hurt and anger.

“Yet that’s all we seem to do whenever we see each other.’’ He took a deep breath. “So, what that says to me is maybe we shouldn’t see each other anymore.’’