Mama Rides Shotgun Read Online Free PDF Page B

tiptoed back into the living room. If Wynonna had managed to catch some sleep, I didn’t want to disturb her. She leaned forward off the chair, angled toward Trey. Her long hair had fallen like a cloak over her face. I couldn’t tell if she was awake or sleeping.
    As I got closer, I saw one of Wynonna’s arms stretched out toward the couch, resting on Trey’s chest. She’d slipped her hand beneath his ripped-open shirt. Her big diamond ring glinted as she moved her hand back and forth, back and forth, massaging the bare chest of her dead husband’s son.

“Leave that dog be, Mace. We’ve got to get over to the camp.’’
    A Florida cur, a cow-working dog, lay with his head on his paws on the hard-pine porch of an outbuilding on the Bramble property. He watched with sad eyes as we walked past.
    “I think he was Lawton’s dog, Mama.’’ I bent to check the name on his collar. Tuck. “Look how lost he looks.’’
    I’d slipped out of the Brambles’ living room without letting on what I’d seen between Wynonna and Trey. I certainly wasn’t ready to spill the beans to Mama. I didn’t want speculation about the young widow and her stepson spreading all over middle Florida until I had it clearer in my mind what was going on.
    Mama and I met as she was coming back from Lawton’s cook site. Doc Abel was still there, with the body. He and Lawton’s daughter, Belle, were waiting for the van from the funeral home.
    I kneeled on the pine board and stroked the dog’s head. “Hey, Tuck, old boy. How you doin’?’’
    A snort came from Mama’s direction. “Maybe Carlos Martinez wouldn’t have moved back to Miamuh,’’ she said, using the old Florida pronunciation, “if you’d of paid as much attention to him as you’re paying to that hound.’’
    Not this again.
    “I told you, Mama, Carlos had a lot of history to reconcile with in Miami. The timing wasn’t right. We both knew it.’’
    I scratched behind Tuck’s right ear. He rolled to his back so I could rub his belly.
    “All I’m saying is Carlos is a good man. I know I wouldn’t have been so quick to let him get away.’’ Mama smoothed at her hair.
    “I know all about it, Mama. If you were just twenty-five years younger, you’d be wearing his engagement ring by now.’’
    One of her convenient memory lapses had allowed Mama to forget that Detective Carlos Martinez had nearly sent her to the slammer the previous summer for murder. Back then, he’d have been more likely to slip a pair of handcuffs around her wrists than an engagement ring around her finger.
    The dog got up and shook itself as we continued across Bramble property. He followed us, tags jangling on his collar. Mama turned sideways and waved a hand in Tuck’s direction. “Go on, shoo!’’ she yelled. “Git, you rascal.’’
    He stopped, cocking his head at me.
    “Quit it, Mama!’’ I said. “Can’t you see the poor thing is lonely?’’ I slapped my thigh and whistled. “C’mon, Tuck. You can come with us.’’ The dog loped to my side.
    Mama rolled her eyes. “Just one ounce, Mace. If you’d use just an ounce of your power to attract animals on men, you’d be married by now. You’re a smart girl, honey. But when it comes to men, you ain’t got the brains God gave a possum.’’
    “Who says I want to be married?’’ I snapped at her. “You’ve marched down the aisle enough for the both of us. Enough for half the female population in Himmarshee, in fact.’’
    She ignored me, leveling a firm look at Tuck. “That flea-bitten animal is not sleeping in the tent with us.’’
    “You’ll be glad to have him if it gets as cold tonight as it’s supposed to get.’’
    “Some women might prefer a man to a dog for warmth, Mace.’’ She arched her perfectly plucked eyebrows. “Think about it, honey.’’
    The parched Bermuda grass and sharp stobs sticking up from the pasture crackled under our boots. The light of the moon edged white clouds with silver,