Mama Rides Shotgun

“You crazy witch,’’ I said to Austin. “I should have sent you to jail.’’

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Mace. What’s a little horseplay between friends?’’ Her smile was chilling.

Spurring her horse, she yelled over her shoulder, “And you better watch who you call crazy.’’

Maddie rode up. “Who’s crazy?’’ She watched Austin dart away through the crowd.

“She is.’’ I was shaking, more from anger than from fear. “Austin’s a total head case.’’

___

“I’m so glad we made it, girls!’’

My sisters and I flanked Mama in her mule wagon, as we made our turn onto Orange Avenue. We were on horseback. Mama was in the passenger seat with her ankle on a pillow, doling out waves like Queen Elizabeth in a peony-pink cowgirl hat.

Spectators lined both sides of the parade route, whooping and cheering as the Cracker Trail riders streamed past. Historic murals and sturdy brick buildings hinted at olden times. Waterfront condos and sleek yachts in the city marina spoke to the new Florida.

Ahead, the crowd erupted into shouts and loud applause. Maddie’s eyebrows went up.

“You got me,’’ I shrugged.

We angled our horses for a better view. Wyno

The crowd roared its approval.

“So much for the ban on theatrics in the parade,’’ Maddie said dryly.

“She’s a heck of a rider,’’ Marty said. “You’ve got to give her that.’’

“That horse is gorgeous and well-trained.’’ I sniffed. “He’d make anybody look good.’’

Mama said, “Speaking of Wyno

I hadn’t had time to snoop. I looked at my sisters. They shook their heads.

“Well,’’ Mama said, “I saw Joh

I wasn’t so sure. Joh

“Ooooh, look girls! There’s Sally!’’ Mama doffed her pink hat, shaking it frantically in his direction. “Yoo-hoo! I’m over here, honey!’’

He aimed a video camera at us. He needed an extra light to compensate for the glare off his neon Western wear. “You’re looking good, girls,’’ he yelled. “Now, everybody wave hello! Smile, Mace!’’

Like kids in a school play, we followed his instructions. I felt a pang of envy for the original Florida cow men. They’d faced hurricanes, heat and humidity, and mosquitoes so fierce they could down a cow in a blood-sucking cloud. But at least as they rode into P. P. Cobb’s old trading post at Fort Pierce, they hadn’t had to grin and wave for the cameras.

“Niña, you should listen to Sal. Where’s that lovely smile that I know so well?’’

I felt a flush spreading fire north from my neck. Maddie’s eyebrows shot up. Marty’s hand darted over and gave my knee a surreptitious squeeze. Mama was otherwise occupied, still striking pretty poses for Sal’s camera.

Fearing my voice would come out in some kind of awful squeak, I cemented my lips.

“What? No smile at all this morning?’’ Carlos flashed his white teeth at me, looking so handsome on that big, black horse that it about took my breath away.

Maddie leaned forward in her saddle, shooting him a murderous glare. “Mace was all ready to smile at sunrise. But then somebody plucked out her heart and stomped on it.’’

He struck a fighter’s pose, jokingly raising a fist. “Who broke Mace’s heart? I’ll teach them some ma

Even Marty was mad enough to be mean: “You’re not in any position to teach anybody ma

He leaned back in the saddle, taking all three of us in. “Did all the Bauer girls get up on the wrong side of their sleeping bags?’’ He yelled over the squeaks and rattles of the mule wagon toward Mama, “Rosalee! What’s up with your daughters? They’re acting like I’m the one who shot Doc Abel.’’

The flirtatious smile Mama had been wearing for Sal’s camera died on her lips. She turned eyes like stones on Carlos. “You don’t want to come around here all su

He frowned at each of us in turn, puzzled. I studied the horn on Val’s saddle, stealing glimpses of him from under my hat brim.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,’’ Carlos finally said. “What pictures?’’

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, ru

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.’’