By the time I finished with the horse and secured the trailer, I could hear riders shouting from the distant pasture. It was time to go. The trail boss would be gathering everyone into a tight line. He’d want us to stay close to safely cross the highway and continue on our way east to the noontime stop we’d make for lunch.

Trotting up on Val, I found my sisters easing their horses into the middle of the crowd.

“Have you seen Carlos?’’ I asked.

Marty gave Maddie a worried look. Maddie studied the horn on her saddle.

“Carlos went off with the family, Mace,’’ Marty finally said.

“His arm was around Belle when they left. I’m sorry, honey.’’ Maddie’s kind tone sounded rusty.

I pictured Carlos the Protector taking care of Belle, and knew it was what he was meant to do. Last night had been a mistake; I couldn’t compete with Belle’s kind of need. I wondered if they’d send me a wedding invitation so I could see her in that size-2 dress.

“I didn’t need him for anything personal.’’ I worked to keep the hurt from my voice. “I’m just asking because I need a police officer. Somebody left something in my Jeep.’’

Maddie’s brows shot up. Marty’s blue eyes went wide. I told them about the note.

“It’ll keep until we can come back for the Jeep at lunchtime,’’ I said. “It’s probably somebody playing a prank. Everyone in camp seems to know my suspicions that Lawton didn’t die naturally. The news there was nothing nefarious in his cup hasn’t caught up.’’

___

The Cracker Trail ride made a short detour to Dixie Springs Elementary. A student from the school was saddled up, riding with his cattle-raising father for the day. Like a living Florida history exhibit, father and son were still holding on to the old ways.

School kids lined the playground fence and sat cross-legged on the front lawn. The rancher’s nine-year-old son was a jeans-and-boots-wearing copy of his dad, right down to the toothpicks stuck into the bands on each of their hats. He was the youngest in a group of whip-wielding cowpokes putting on a show.

“Do it again, Tyler,’’ a little boy called out, as several girls put their fingers to their ears. “Make it crack again!’’

Mama perched in a green wagon being pulled by a pair of little Haflingers. While whips snapped and children fed carrots to the gentlest horses, I ambled over to see how she was doing.

“. . . and so that was my third husband,’’ Mama was telling the glazed-eyed driver. “Number 3 was a nice change from No. 2. That one had a roving eye, if you know what I mean. And that wasn’t his only fault.’’ She mimed tipping a bottle to her mouth. “I was glad to get rid of him, I’ll tell you that. But, anyways, back to Husband No. 3 . . .’’

I doubted if the poor driver had gotten in a word since we left Okeechobee County.

“Hey,’’ I called. “Have you heard the latest?’’

Gossip, along with butterscotch anything, is a powerful Mama motivator.

“Hi, darlin’.’’ She introduced me to David, the wagon driver. “The two of us have been having ourselves the nicest chat.’’

David touched his hat brim and looked at me with desperation in his eyes.

“What’s up?’’ Mama asked.

I told her about the note.

“I knew there was something more to that fella’s death.’’ David leaned across Mama to talk to me. “People are saying he was poisoned.’’

Mama waved a hand. “Oh, that’s what Mace thought before. But her ex-boyfriend, who’s a police detective, got a friend to test the chili in the cup Lawton was using.’’ She shifted toward me in the seat. “I don’t think Carlos would have done you that favor if he didn’t still like you, Mace. I just know you two can patch things up, honey. You’ll just have to try a little harder, be a little softer with him.’’

David pulled at his collar, looking as uncomfortable as I felt.

“Not relevant, Mama,’’ I warned.

“Anyways,’’ Mama turned to address David, hauling herself back on track, “Doc ruled Lawton’s death a heart attack. There’s no formal investigation, so there hasn’t been an autopsy. And, now, with the lab tests, it looks like Lawton’s chili wasn’t poisoned.’’

I thought about that for a minute. “Well, the chili cup we found had no poison.’’

“Hmmm,’’ Mama said.

“And the note in your Jeep definitely used the word ‘murdered’?’’ David asked.

I nodded.

“Hmmm,’’ he said.

___

“These fields are going to murder my shocks,’’ Sal grumbled, as we jounced over pastureland torn up by wild hogs.

I rode in the front seat; Carlos was in the back. He’d agreed after lunch to return to camp with me to look at the note.

“Make a left at that clump of palmetto, Sal.’’

“You have to be more specific, Mace,’’ he said. “It’s all just green to me.’’

“The low-growing shrub with spiky fronds shaped like fans.’’

“Thank you,’’ Sal said, as he maneuvered the big Caddy into a wide arc to the left.

A wallow the hogs had dug out loomed ahead: a shallow, muddy bowl. “Watch out . . .’’ I started to say, just before I felt the car take a dip.

“Crap!’’ Sal’s unlit cigar fell from his mouth.

“Don’t slow down, Sal!’’ I yelled. “Just power on through, and you won’t get stuck.’’

He gunned it, and came out safely on the other side.

“Does anybody know where the closest car wash is?’’ Sal stared out the windshield at wild land stretching for miles. “Nah, forget the car wash. How far’s the nearest bar?’’

Carlos leaned over the seat and patted Sal’s shoulder. “Hang in there, buddy. Just one more night left on the trail. We’ll be in Fort Pierce for the big parade by tomorrow.’’

“Hallelujah.’’

I said, “There’s my Jeep and trailer, under that slash pine.’’

Sal looked at me blankly.

“Sorry. Under that tall, lonely tree that looks like a hat rack with green needles and brown hanging things.’’

He smiled as he eased his Caddy to a stop, parking a distance from my camp.

As we got out of the car, Carlos pulled a plastic bag for evidence from his pocket.

“Thanks for parking outside the perimeter, Sal. I don’t want all of us tramping around. Mace, can you remember how you got to your Jeep before?’’

I nodded.

“Try to take the same path as much as you can. I’ll follow your footsteps.’’ Looking around the campsite, he frowned. “It’s all grass here, though. Not so good for finding footprints, if it comes to that. It’d be better if it were dirt, or mud.’’

“I know where you can find some of that.’’ Sal smeared at the muck on his fenders with a monogrammed handkerchief.

I moved carefully toward the Jeep, picturing where Val had been standing and what direction I walked to fetch her bridle from the trailer. Carlos followed so closely I could hear him breathing; I smelled his scent. Even without a shower, he smelled good. Musky, with a subtle overlay of the spicy, clove-scented cologne he always wore.

I’d tasted that cologne more than once as I kissed him on the neck. Which was just the kind of memory I wanted to push out of my head.

I was within a few feet of my Jeep when I noticed a slash in the old canvas top. It was cut with surgical precision above the driver-side door. As I got closer, I saw the seat was empty. Somebody had reached in and snatched the note telling me to keep looking for Lawton’s killer.

___

“You’ll never believe who stopped by with a gift for you, Mace,’’ Mama said.

My sisters and I were gathered with Mama and Sal at Camp Cadillac. It was late afternoon, an hour or so before sunset, on the final night of the ride.

“Who?’’

“Guess,’’ Mama said, ensconced on her pillows in Sal’s back seat.

“Mama, please. I’m not in the mood.’’

I’d had to leave my Jeep and trailer behind. Carlos didn’t think it should be moved. If it turned out the stolen note wasn’t a prank, there could be evidence on or in the vehicle that might be important. Better to not take any chances, he said.