Deborah Sharp - Mama Rides Shotgun (A Mace Bauer Mystery)
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Mama Rides Shotgun: A Mace Bauer Mystery 2009 by Deborah Sharp.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any matter whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from Midnight Ink, except in the form of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
As the purchaser of this ebook, you are granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. The text may not be otherwise reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, or recorded on any other storage device in any form or by any means.
Any unauthorized usage of the text without express written permission of the publisher is a violation of the authors copyright and is illegal and punishable by law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
First e-book edition 2010
E-book ISBN: 978-07387-2142-2
Book design and format by Donna Burch
Cover design by Lisa Novak
Cover illustration Mark Gerber
Editing by Connie Hill
Midnight Ink is an imprint of Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd.
Midnight Ink does not participate in, endorse, or have any authority or responsibility concerning private business arrangements between our authors and the public.
Any Internet references contained in this work are current at publication time, but the publisher cannot guarantee that a specific reference will continue or be maintained. Please refer to the publishers website for links to current author websites.
Midnight Ink
Llewellyn Worldwide Ltd.
2143 Wooddale Drive
Woodbury, MN 55125
www.midnightink.com
Manufactured in the United States of America
To my brother Kevin Sharp gone too soon, just like Daddy. With strong hearts in heaven, I hope
theyre knocking those baseballs out of the park.
Why dont you move over a little so that setting sun hits your hair, Mace? You look so pretty when it sparkles like that.
Mama grabbed my chin, cranking it in a westward direction like I was a baby doll with a pop-off head. Id been savoring the moment, gazing upon a still pristine stretch of our once vast central Florida prairie.
Quit, I snapped at her, jerking my chin away. Val, the horse Id borrowed for the annual Florida Cracker Trail Ride, shifted beneath me and shook her own head. Equine empathy, maybe. Val must have had a mother who drove her crazy, too.
Well, you dont need to get snippy. Mama edged her horse a little closer and whispered. I was just trying to present you in your most flattering light, darlin. She nodded significantly toward a weekend cowboy astride a big palomino, heading into the evening camp.
Oh, for Gods sake, Mama! I whispered back. Cant we spend any time at all together without you trying to find me a man?
I glanced at the cowboy. He was bald, twenty years older than me, and about a hundred pounds overweight. The gelding he was riding was plenty big. Still, the horse looked relieved the ride was stopping for the day so he could get a break.
Turning Val away from the long line of riders, I trotted toward a remote corner of ranch land Id already chosen for our campsite. Mama spurred her horse to catch up, her mouth hooked downward in a pout.
I dont know why youve got us way out here in Siberia, Mace. Theres not a soul nearby for me to talk to.
I like the quiet, Mama. And you can socialize up a storm at dinner. Besides, I thought this trip was all about the two of us bonding.
With Mamas impending marriage just a few months away, it had been her idea to saddle up and hit the week-long camping and riding trip along the Cracker Trail. She drove me crazy about it until I finally caved in.
We need us some bonding time, Mace, shed said. Were the last two single gals in the family. I think there was even a tear in her eye.
I got all nostalgic about Floridas early cattle-driving days, and how wed traced the historic trail as a family when Daddy was alive. Insanely, I went along with Mamas plan. My sisters, Marty and Maddie, couldnt take a whole week off work. But they were going to drive the hour and a half from Himmarshee to the Atlantic coast. Theyd meet us for the big parade in Fort Pierce, the end point for the hundred or so riders who make the cross-state trek.
If I made it that far without killing Mama, that is.
Combine her upcoming nuptials with the fact that my former flame moved back to Miami and out of my life, and Mamas matchmaking compulsion had hit overdrive. We were only on day two of the six-day ride, and already shed eyed every male shed seen as my possible mate: from the pimply clerk at the mega-store, who bagged up our trail provisions, to the rides middle-aged cowboy poet, even after two of his girlfriends got into a scuffle near the stage last night. By this point, I was praying for an off-season hurricane that might force us to cancel the rest of the trip.
Wed just pulled up the horses to a tree line that marked our evening camp, when I suddenly felt Vals muscular body tense beneath me. Her ears went up. A moment later, I heard the sound myself: Something was moving out there through the shadows of a dense oak hammock.
Well, as I live and breathe. A deep, booming voice. If it isnt the prettiest girl ever to grace the halls at Himmarshee High.
Mamas hand flew to her hair, and she batted her lashes becomingly. I didnt even bother to turn around. Im not awful to look at: thirty-one; five-foot-ten; slender, well-muscled build. But Mama and I both know which one of us would be described as the prettiest girl ever at Himmarshee High. Shed been homecoming queen and head cheerleader. Id received special permission to compete with the boys at bulldogging for the high school rodeo.
Mace, honey, look whos here. Youve met Lawton Bramble before, havent you? Law and I were an item back in high school, a hundred years ago.
Given that the wedding in four months would be Mamas fifth, I was surprised she could still keep all her items straight. Then again, you dont forget a man like Lawton Bramble.
He sauntered out of the trees toward Mama and me. In expensive custom boots and worn Wrangler jeans, he was still gorgeous in his sixties; so tall he barely had to raise his head to look us in the eye on our horses.
Whoo-eee! Arent you something, Mace, Lawton said. You turned out just as pretty as your mama.
I hoped I wasnt blushing. I didnt care much for the way Lawton treated his land, or for his politics or business practices. Gossip was he was cruel; but he was all charm today. Magnetism oozed off him like musk. And there was no ignoring the force of those blue eyes. No wonder everyone from the governor on down asked how high when Lawton said jump.
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