___

“Headin’ out!’’ came the call, repeated by riders up and down the length of the pasture. “Headin’ ooooouuuuttt!’’

County sheriff’s deputies had pulled their squad cars onto State Road 64, lights flashing, near the entrance to Bramble land. They blocked traffic so the long line of riders could cross the highway and proceed onto a grassy, roadside swale that makes up much of the Cracker Trail. Today’s highways follow the old paths made by the state’s cattle-raising pioneers. In the old days, cowmen moved their herds from east to west, where they’d load the cattle onto ships on Florida’s Gulf Coast, bound for markets in Cuba. Our ride reverses the direction, signifying their return trip—minus their cattle, and, hopefully, with some money in their pockets.

Once we’d crossed the road and got on our way, the ride began to settle into a pattern. Horses and riders found their strides. Maddie and Marty had been able to rustle up two horses from a group that brings abused and abandoned animals on the ride—partly as rehabilitation, partly in an effort to find homes for the horses. Maddie’s mount walked faster than mine; Marty’s a bit slower. So, it wasn’t long before I was on my own in the line. I enjoyed the passing scenery: an orange grove to the right; a fenced horse pasture to the left. Whinnying loudly, an Appaloosa mare cantered along on her side of the fence, looking like she wanted to break out and join the herd of Cracker Trail horses passing by.

I knew from the last couple of days that Mama’s horse and mine kept a similar pace. Just as I began to wonder where she’d gotten to, I heard her voice behind me.

“Oh, yes, my daughter Mace and I were right there when Wynonna found poor Lawton. She was so distraught. But, of course, I did what I could to make her feel better. I don’t know what it is, but people just naturally turn to me in times of trouble.’’

I heard whoever Mama was bragging to murmur politely, not that she needed any encouragement to continue.

“Now, my daughter Mace, on the other hand, she doesn’t have a natural gift with people. She’s better with animals, quite frankly.’’

“Aw, the poor thing! She’s a loner, then. No boyfriend?’’

I recognized that other voice. I pulled up on the reins to slow Val.

“Well, speak of the devil! That’s Mace riding, right up there. The gal with the snarly hair and big shoulders. Howdy, darlin’,’’ Mama called to the back of my head. “I’ve just been talking to the sweetest, prettiest girl.’’

Pretty, yes. Sweet? Not even close.

“Hello again, Austin,’’ I said as the two of them came abreast.

Austin tossed her hair, picked up her pace, and pulled ahead of us without a word.

The look on Mama’s face almost made it worth it, getting my tent ripped to shreds. Her head swiveled back and forth, forth and back like a one-eyed man at a strip club. Finally, her gaze lit on me.

“Well, I never! You could have told me what the girl looked like, Mace,’’ she whispered. Then, raising her voice to Austin’s retreating back, she yelled out, “And she ain’t all that pretty, either!’’

“How much did you tell her about me, Mama?’’

Mama’s guilty look hinted she’d had a lot to say to Austin in the hour-and-half we’d been on the trail.

“Did you brag about my college grades?’’

A nod and a proud smile.

“Did you complain that I never do anything with my hair or fix my face with makeup?’’

A nod, no smile.

“Did you tell her you’ve just about given up hope I’ll ever get married?’’

Mama pursed her lips.

“That’s what I thought.’’ I turned Val’s reins toward an open spot ahead and pushed my heels to her sides.

“Where you going, Mace?’’ Mama called after me.

“I’m going to show that even if I am too smart for my own good, plain, and pityingly single, I won’t be pushed around.’’

Within moments, I’d caught up with Austin. Like Mama, she had on a full face. Rosy lips. Mascara-ed eyes. Blush expertly blended on perfect cheekbones. I hoped the sun would get really hot, so I could watch all that makeup melt.

I pulled up Val beside her.

‘‘I want to talk to you, Austin.’’

I used the work tone I reserve for visitors to Himmarshee Park who steal rare plants or taunt Ollie, our alligator.

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you.’’

She swung her face away from me. I wondered how she made her curls bounce like that. Hair rollers? An electric curling iron? If so, where would she plug it in on the trail? Did they make them with little chargers you could use with your car’s cigarette lighter, like they do for cell phones?

I edged Val closer to Austin’s little horse. It was a flashy Arabian mare, the equine world’s equivalent of a beauty queen. How appropriate.

“You’re going to listen to me, whether you like it or not.’’ Seeing a couple of other riders turn their heads, I lowered my voice to a hiss. “Number one. I didn’t know Trey was involved with you. Which he says he isn’t anymore, by the way.’’

“That’s just temporary.’’ She waved her hand like I was a pesky horsefly, engagement ring glinting in the sun. “We’ve broken up and gotten back a dozen times. He’ll come around. If a certain tramp I could name would just leave him alone.’’

That started my blood to simmer.

“Number two, I’d appreciate it if you’d stop calling me a tramp. You don’t even know me.’’

Austin arched her plucked eyebrows. “I know plenty.’’

Thanks, Mama, I thought.

“And number three, have you got a knife hidden somewhere in those tight jeans? Did you have anything to do with my tent getting ruined last night?’’

Confusion played across her face. It looked genuine. I imagined it was the same look Austin’s high school math teacher had seen a hundred times.

“What are you talking about?’’ she snapped. “Why would I care about your stupid tent?’’

I stared, trying to gauge if she was lying.

“What kind of wine do you drink, Austin?’’

A blank look. “Your mama was right, Mace. You have zero people skills. First you accuse me of whatever with a tent. Now, you want to buy me a gift to make up for trying to steal my fiancé. If you’re serious, I prefer white wine.’’

“Don’t hold your breath,’’ I said, as I turned Val away.

Trey had already said that Austin was none too bright. I graduated cum laude from the University of Central Florida. So, how come I was the one who felt stupid?

___

Maddie and I held the reins of all four horses as Marty and Mama went off to scout the snack line. We’d pulled in at a wide spot along the trail to give horses and riders a midmorning break. I stretched and did knee bends. Maddie did a one-hand massage of her lower back. Funny, I didn’t remember as many pains and aches the last time we rode.

Riders lined up at a flatbed truck hauling the water and lemonade supply. The queue was even longer for the portable potties, trailered from stop to stop like a smelly caboose. You could tell at a glance which occupied john had a broken lock. A cowboy hat propped at the door served as a Do Not Enter sign.

Soon, Mama and Marty returned with lemonades all around, as well as peanut butter crackers and four apples. The horses, of course, got the apples.

“Do you want my crackers, Mace?’’ Mama sweetly offered her package. “I’ll give you half my lemonade, too.’’