“Yeah, that get-up’s bad enough. Hard to believe, he has another one. Same style. Neon blue. I’m almost afraid to see what he’ll come up with tomorrow.’’
“You’d think Mama would have set him straight on what to wear.’’
“Are you kidding?’’ I said. “She probably helped pick them out. Did you see that plum-colored creation she had on today? Daddy would have fallen off his horse laughing.’’
“Nah, he wouldn’t have, Mace. Mama could do no wrong as far as Daddy was concerned. Remember how they were together?’’
I nodded, my mind drifting back twenty-plus years. I was just a kid when our father died of a heart attack. It was an awful shock. Daddy had hardly been sick a day in his life. But he’d gotten in over his head, trying to make a go of a cow-calf operation. Afterward, everyone said it was the stress of losing our ranch that killed him. That was one reason I was perfectly content drawing a regular paycheck from the Himmarshee Parks Department. Running my own business wasn’t for me. Too many headaches and heartaches.
My sisters must have felt the same way, because the school district cut Maddie’s checks, and Marty worked for the county library. None of us had set the world on fire. Then again, we all were healthy and relatively happy. Looking at the Bramble family, with all that money, I couldn’t say the same for them.
A pinch on my arm brought me back to the present and the trail ride.
“Mace!’’ Another pinch. “I’ve been trying to get your attention. Look lively, girl,’’ Maddie said. “And run a hand through that tangle of snarls you call hair. Carlos is right up there, on your left.’’
His thoroughbred tossed its head, raring to run in the cool morning fog. Carlos held him in with taut reins. His denim shirt strained across his muscled back and shoulders. Why did the man have to look so good?
“I don’t have anything to say to Carlos,’’ I told Maddie.
In the tent last night, before we went to sleep, I filled her in on my campfire humiliation. From Sharing S’mores to Flat-out Ignored. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to choke down another of those melted-marshmallow treats.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Mace. If you want him, you better fight for him. He’s too good of a man to let get away. You’re not getting any younger, you know.’’
“Now you sound like Mama.’’
I didn’t want to remind Maddie she detested Carlos as recently as last summer. Back then, she said he was an arrogant S.O.B. with bad manners and a foul temper. Or maybe I’d said that. I’d certainly thought it plenty of times.
“Mace! Are you listening to me? This is a good time for you to talk to him. He’s all alone. You can get to him before that Austin tramp comes back and starts eyeing him like he’s the last biscuit in the basket.’’ She lifted her boot in the stirrup and smacked me in the calf. “Go on. You’ll hate yourself if you don’t.’’
“I might hate myself if I do, Maddie.’’
I could almost hear the parts clanking in her head. She was trying to think of a way to convince me.
“Why don’t you go ask Carlos what happened with Doc Abel?’’
She set the hook.
“Wasn’t he supposed to see Doc about getting that cup last night?’’
She reeled me in.
I spurred Val forward. “You’re relentless, Sister,’’ I said over my shoulder.
“I know. It’s one of the qualities I admire most in myself,’’ she said.
I quickly caught up, slowing a few paces behind Carlos so as not to challenge the thoroughbred’s racehorse instincts. I eased Val alongside him.
“Hey,’’ I said.
He turned in the saddle. “Hey, yourself. How are you this morning, Mace?’’
“Fine. A little headache-y from all that sugar last night at the campfire.’’
He raised his eyebrows. “What sugar?’’ he asked cautiously.
Oh, God! Did he think I meant I saw him and Austin kissing? Were they kissing?
“From the S’mores,’’ I blurted.
Relief flickered across his face. Bastard. He had kissed her. Of course, I’d been kissing Trey, and might have done more if not for Maddie interrupting us. I felt my face get hot.
“What about the cup?’’ I said, too abruptly.
He looked annoyed. “Do you purposely speak in riddles, Mace? You know, English wasn’t my first language. You should give me a break.’’
“You speak English better than me, so knock it off.’’ I made my words slow and distinct, as if I were addressing a small child: “What. Happened. Regarding. The. Chili. Cup. That. Belonged. To. Lawton. Bramble?’’
“Much better,’’ he said. “I asked Doc Abel for it, and he gave it to me. It’s already at the Florida Department of Law Enforcement’s crime lab.’’
“What . . . when?’’ I started to ask.
He held up his hand to interrupt me. I hated it when he did that.
“A friend of mine,’’ he continued, “an FDLE agent, owes me a favor. He drove down to meet me last night in camp, then took the cup and its crusty chili back for testing.’’
“Oh,’’ I said. “Well, thanks.’’
“You’re welcome.’’
“Did Doc Abel act weird about handing it over?’’ I asked.
“Not at all. But if he had, I wouldn’t have been surprised. Acting weird seems to be quite common around here.’’
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Yeah, it is. Along with acting like an asshole. Maybe you can discuss that with your new girlfriend, Austin.’’
He smirked at me, which really boiled my blood. I fingered the cow whip coiled on my saddle, and fantasized about snapping that smart-assed look right off his face.
“Mace, Mace,’’ he said, with a head shake and laugh. “You are so wrong.’’
“Please. I have eyes,’’ I said. “You and that girl looked like you needed to rent a room.’’
“It’s not what you think.’’
“You have no idea what I think. Why’d you even come on this ride anyway?’’
“I love horses. And I wanted to reacquaint myself with the pace and the people up here.’’ He frowned. “Have you asked all the other riders so rudely why the hell they came?’’
I turned Val away without answering. As I did, I saw Maddie, riding just out of earshot. She raised her eyebrows and motioned me a question: Thumbs up?
I looped Val’s reins on the horn of the saddle so I could use both hands to signal my progress with Carlos: Thumbs down, definitely. Double thumbs down.
___
Maddie knew me well enough to know I wanted my space. And, for a change, she gave it to me. I rode the trail alone, enclosed in my cone of self pity and confusion. I wanted to make things right with Carlos again, but I didn’t know how. Too proud for my own good, I didn’t want to appear desperate. I couldn’t stand the idea he’d see me as needy.
So where had my independence gotten me? Playing stupid games with a man I really cared about, and getting cozy with one I didn’t.
As Val kept a steady walk, I leaned low over her neck to whisper. “Like I told you before, girl, I’m an idiot.’’
Her head bobbed up and down, no doubt in agreement.
Before anyone could catch me discussing my love life with a horse, I closed my mouth and turned my mind to the passing scenery. We’d made our turn onto State Road 66, still moving east. Cattle grazed behind fences. A white bus from a church school putt-putted past, filled with the children of migrant workers. In an orange grove adjoining the trail, pickers climbed tall silver ladders to pluck the fruit from the highest branches.
Amid these symbols of Florida’s agricultural past were troubling notes from her future: A luxury SUV roared by, its driver unmindful that a hundred-plus horses ambled close to the road. Land-For-Sale signs sprouted like maiden cane grass on a creek bank. New housing developments dotted once wild spaces. Most of them had ironic names: Eagle Trace, where no trace of an eagle remained; Oak Grove, where rows of fancy homes had replaced ancient oak hammocks.