I’d stowed as much of Val’s supplies as I could fit into the trunk of Sal’s car. He was a sport about it, even when the sticky horse feed spilled on the golden carpet inside.

“So, who left me a present?’’ I asked again.

Mama dug into a cooler in Sal’s front seat, pulling out a bottle of white wine. “She even left a corkscrew and glasses.’’ She presented two plastic goblets with a flourish. “Sal and I can share.’’

“Who, Mama?’’ Maddie and I screeched.

“Austin,’’ Sal answered, fingers in his ears.

Mama gave him a playful slap. “I wanted Mace to guess!’’

“Well.’’ Marty examined the bottle. “That’s strange.’’

“Better check the seal to see if it’s been tampered with,’’ Maddie said.

“She was really nice, Mace,’’ Mama said. “Austin said you’ve had a heck of a week. And she still feels bad about that cow whip, honey.’’

A crack rang out just then, like punctuation. Over the course of the ride, the whips had become a background soundtrack. Novices had learned enough to make the leather snap. Old hands remembered how much fun whip-cracking could be.

Mama continued, “She was at her granny’s, so she missed my terrifying ride on Shotgun. I told her how that horse and I were just standing there, as pretty as you please . . .’’

“Mama, what else did Austin say?’’ Marty corralled her back on track.

“Well, she just said she wanted Mace and me to relax and enjoy a nice glass of wine. She even brought ice to keep it cold.’’

Mama hunted around until she found a cup for Marty. She handed Sal the corkscrew.

“Austin, huh?’’ Maddie fished out her teetotaler’s bottled water from the cooler. “Will wonders never cease.’’

Sal uncorked the wine, and then poured a bit in each glass. Mama, Marty, and I toasted our wine to Maddie’s water. We all sipped. Sal slid his cigar case from his pocket and lit up.

“Mmm-hmm,’’ Mama said. “It’s almost as good as one of those raspberry wine coolers.’’

Sal studied the bottle’s label, and took a stab: “Sue-Vig-None Blank.’’

Maddie, who’d had a semester of college French, corrected him, “Sauvignon Blanc.’’

“Here you go, darlin’.” Mama handed Sal her glass. “It sounds better when you say it.’’

Sal was about to take a swallow when a scream shattered the festive spirit of our little party. We dropped our drinks and ran to the sound, which seemed oddly familiar.

In a wide green pasture, under a sinking sun, Wynonna kneeled on the ground. She shouted over and over for help, her hands pressed to Doc Abel’s stomach.

As we came closer, she looked up. Terror filled her eyes and blood stained her hands.

“Please, you’ve got to save him,’’ she cried. “Somebody shot Doc.’’

Doc Abel was alive, but barely, bleeding from a bullet to the gut.

A helicopter was rushed from the hospital in Stuart. It now pounded the air above us. Riders looked to the sky, hands clamped tight over cowboy hats. The sun was almost gone now. Lanterns gleamed in the treeless pasture, marking off a makeshift landing pad. As the chopper descended, a search beam washed the scene in an eerie glow.

“Move back, people,’’ Sal yelled as the crowd shifted, closing in again around Doc. “The medical team will need some room.’’

___

When Wynonna screamed, we weren’t the only ones who heard her. People came running from all over camp. Cell phone calls to 911 must have lit up the lines at the county sheriff’s central dispatch. In the crowd, I saw Austin and Johnny Adams; Trey and his sister, Belle. The big-bottomed cowgirl showed up. So did the two teenagers, their eyes bright orbs. Sal hustled over, right behind my sisters and me. He and Carlos had taken charge until deputies from the Dundee County sheriff’s office could arrive at the remote camp.

“I’m a police officer,’’ Carlos kept saying, as he elbowed his way through the jostling mass.

Carlos did what he could for an unconscious Doc. A rider who was a nurse stepped forward to help, checking Doc’s vital signs and applying pressure to the gunshot wound. Then, Carlos assigned a few onlookers to help Sal with crowd control. The shooting scene was nearly impossible to secure. People had already trampled all over, beginning with Wynonna in her brown fringed boots.

As quickly as he could, with the rescue helicopter still in flight, Carlos turned his attention to her.

“Did you see who shot him, Wynonna?’’

She shook her head, eyes fastened on Doc and the blood leaking from his gut onto the nurse’s rolled-up towel. When Wynonna turned her face to Carlos, tears streaked her cheeks.

As she stood, he wrapped his arms around her, drawing her into a tight hug. It looked more like he was checking Wynonna for a weapon than giving her comfort.

“Did Doc say anything?’’ he asked, stepping away from her.

“I think he was already out of it when I found him.’’ She rubbed a hand over her eyes, unaware Doc’s blood now streaked her forehead. “He just moaned and mumbled about being shot. Then, he said something else. It sounded like ‘I’m sorry.’ ’’

I glanced at my sisters. Maddie raised an eyebrow. Marty shrugged.

Wynonna was pale, and seemed to be swaying a bit.

“Can somebody find us a chair?’’ Carlos yelled to the crowd.

Within moments, he had a half dozen to choose from. He took one, faced it away from Doc and the nurse, and helped Wynonna sit down. As he did, he ran his hands from her calves to her ankles, giving the top of each boot a discreet pat. He might have been moving her legs to make her more comfortable. But I’d bet he was ruling out all the places she could have stashed a handgun.

He placed another of the chairs right next to her and sat down “Why don’t you tell me in your own words what happened?’’

She took in a shuddering breath. Placing her palms on her knees, she seemed to notice the blood on her hands for the first time. She scrubbed them hard across the fabric of her jeans.

“Wynonna?’’ Carlos prodded.

Finally, she began to speak in a robotic tone. “I left our RV, and was headed over to the trail boss’s campsite. We’ve set all the arrangements for Lawton’s funeral, and I thought maybe Jack would want to make an announcement about it at dinner.’’

Mama hobbled up to join us, using a hickory branch as a walking stick. Her desire to be in on the activity must have won out over her ankle pain. I leaned over and whispered, “A helicopter’s on the way for Doc, who got shot. Carlos is questioning Wynonna, who found him.’’

“Jesus H. Christ on a crutch,’’ Mama breathed.

“I was crossing the pasture when I saw Doc,’’ Wynonna continued. “I ran to him. When I saw the blood, and how bad he looked, I started yelling for help.’’

“And no one else was around when you arrived?’’

“Carlos, you’ve already asked me if I know who did it. I don’t.’’ Exasperation edged her voice. “When I ran up, Doc was on the ground. A cattle egret was the only other living creature I saw in this pasture.’’

“Did you hear anything?’’

“You mean besides the sound of these stupid Crackers all over camp with their cow whips? No, I didn’t.’’

She covered her eyes with a hand again. “I don’t understand who would have wanted to shoot him, you know?’’

She turned to stare at Doc, and all of our eyes followed hers. The nurse leaned over him, urging him to hang on.

“Will he be okay?’’ Wynonna asked Carlos, her voice small and scared.