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 manners!’’
Even Marty was mad enough to be mean: “You’re not in any position to teach anybody manners, Carlos.’’
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 sunny and smiling after what you did to Mace this morning. Any real gentleman would have posed for Belle for a couple of pictures.’’
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, 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.