“Did it work?’’ Maddie asked.

Belle stared into space without speaking. “No,’’ she finally said, letting loose fresh tears.

My sister leaned over, surprisingly tender, and stroked Belle’s wet hair. I saw flecks of sand in the red curls, along with a flash of the motherly way Maddie was with her daughter, Pam.

Belle, sobbing, lifted her arms like a child. Maddie pulled her close. As Belle’s hands went around my sister’s neck, the lantern light revealed a dark, familiar-looking stain on the cuff of her long-sleeved, cream-colored shirt.

“What’s that on your sleeve, Belle?’’ I asked.

Holding out her wrist, she stared at the cuff like it belonged to someone else. As she turned over her palm, we could see a red gash from the heel of her hand to her pinky finger. Trey took a sharp breath. Belle looked at the wound blankly. I began to wonder if she was on drugs.

I gently pulled her hand toward me, holding it under my flashlight. She didn’t resist.

“That doesn’t look too bad.’’ I said. “You must have bled onto Poco after you did it.’’

Belle’s eyes suddenly widened. “Poco!’’ she breathed.

“Don’t worry. Mace and her sister and the folks next to our camp took care of everything,’’ Trey said. “Poco’s fine.’’

“How’d you cut yourself?’’ I asked.

She lifted her hand again, staring like it was the first time she’d ever laid eyes on it.

“Belle?’’ Trey prodded, when she failed to respond.

Maddie and I exchanged a look.

“I’m not sure,’’ she said, slowly shaking her head. “I remember I was getting Poco’s bridle off, and then I went to get something from the trailer. There’s so many sharp things in there, metal edges and pointy corners. I don’t even remember cutting myself. It doesn’t really hurt.’’

That could be drugs talking, I thought. A palm cut, even when it’s not deep, usually stings like the dickens.

“We should be going,’’ Trey said. “With all the horses and riders on our property, we don’t know what’s been in this creek. You should get some antibiotic cream on that cut, Belle.’’

Belle gazed up at the moon, which had turned the cypress branches silver.

“I don’t want to go yet.’’ She leaned back unsteadily, taking two tries to balance on her elbows. “I love our family’s land so much, Trey. It’s the place I feel I belong. The only time I’m really happy is when I’m out here, just walking or taking photos.’’

Trey said, “Belle’s nature pictures are in a big gallery in Stuart. Sell pretty well, too.’’

“Just listen to the sound the creek makes as it flows past,’’ she said dreamily.

We were all quiet, hearing the water gurgle and sigh.

“Isn’t that beautiful? That’s as familiar to me as the sound of my own heartbeat,’’ Belle said.

Trey smiled at his sister. “Belle, honey, we should go.’’

Ignoring him, she said, “When Trey and I were little, I’d come out here and sit for hours, wouldn’t I, Trey? I used to think the cypress knees looked like all the characters from the Care Bears. I’d tell the trees all my troubles.’’

“My daughter used to love the Care Bears,’’ Maddie said. “Pam’s not too much younger than you, Belle. She’s away at college now.’’

Belle didn’t seem to hear my sister.

“I love the water.’’ She trailed the fingers on her good hand into the creek. “I used to wish I could load my sorrows into a little boat, and then just watch them float away.’’

Trey said, “Let’s go, Belle,’’ with a stern edge to his voice. “We’ve put Mace and her sister out enough for one night.’’

“Despite everything, I miss Daddy, Trey. Don’t you?’’

Trey pinched at the bridge of his nose. I couldn’t be sure whether he was irritated at his sister, or holding back tears of his own.

Maddie got up and announced, “I think you two could use some time alone.’’ Her words barely seemed to register with Trey or Belle. “Mace and I can find our way back.’’

What that meant was I’d find our way back. Maddie had trouble navigating from the principal’s office to the parking lot. Fortunately, I’d spent a lot of time in the woods.

We’d crossed over, donned our boots, and proceeded a bit along the bank when Maddie finally whispered, “Drugs, don’t you think?’’

“I do,’’ I said, “but I don’t know whether that’s so bad under the circumstances. She seems grief-stricken over her daddy.’’

We were much younger than Belle when our father died. But I remembered Mama taking a regular dose of little orange pills in those first awful days after his heart attack. Maybe Doc Abel had given Belle something similar.

“I don’t disagree with you, Mace. But don’t you wonder about what Belle said?’’

I stopped in the clearing, trying to place whether a fence line I saw in my flashlight beam had been on my left or my right coming in. My right, I was suddenly certain. Maddie had been to my left.

“What Belle said about what?’’ I asked, picking up the pace as I followed the fence.

“All that about her troubles,’’ Maddie answered. “What kind of troubles could the pampered daughter of the richest man in three counties possibly have had?”

I woke up cranky after Maddie and I fought all night over space in her moldy tent. I hated to think how tight it would be with Marty in there, too. Maddie’s a bulldozer, asleep or awake. She’d probably roll our sister and her sleeping bag right out the zippered door.

“You snore, Mace.’’

“I do not!’’

“I heard it with my own ears. Sounded like somebody using a chain saw.’’

“You were probably hearing yourself, Maddie. When you got going, I thought there was a wild hog snuffling for acorns in the tent.’’

We brushed the horses’ backs and bellies, making sure there were no sweat- or dirt-matted spots to irritate them under their saddles. Despite our bickering, Maddie and I worked well as a team. We’d already fed and watered the horses, cleaned up and packed most of our stuff, and got the tent broken down. And we still had a half-hour before Johnny and his crew would start serving breakfast.

“I think I’m having the pancakes,’’ I said. “Are you getting biscuits and gravy?’’

She hefted a saddle onto her horse’s back. “I’m having both.’’ She licked her lips. “Lord knows I’m working off the calories.’’

Before I could come back with something sarcastic, I heard a rustle in the dry pasture behind us. My arm froze over Val’s back as I wondered if a horse brush would make an effective weapon. I turned to see who was there.

“Sal! You shouldn’t go sneaking up on people.’’ I let out the breath I was holding.

He was wearing another The-Duke-Meets-Elton-John cowboy outfit, only this one was burgundy. I couldn’t believe they’d made two of those rhinestone-studded monstrosities.

“Sorry, Mace. I don’t know how to act around horses.’’ He looked nervously at Val’s hind end, where I was picking some burrs out of her tail.

“Don’t worry about it,’’ I said. “But it’s always better to say something, give some kind of verbal warning.’’ Both for me and the horses, I thought.

“Your mother’s over at the chuck wagon. Her horse has some kind of problem,’’ Sal said, taking a long detour around Val. “Something about a toad. She wants to know if you know anyone who might be able to loan her another horse today.’’

Maddie and I were saddled up and off in a flash. I asked Sal if he wanted a ride, doubling with me for the short distance on Val. He grimaced like I’d offered to pull off his fingernails.