Page 77 of Bourbon and Secrets

“Maggie!” a woman shouts from the first horse stall. She waves furiously as Maggie starts heading her way. “Please tell me this is Faye.”

I smile politely as we get closer. The woman has her hair in a tight French braid draped over her shoulder as she loops the hobble strap of her saddle. It doesn’t take much to figure out she’s barrel racing tonight. Between her dark blue jeans and adeep orange button-down shirt peppered with brand logos along the shoulder and chest, this woman is a part of the professional, not the amateur, circuit tonight.

“Faye, your sister told me a little bit about her cool older sister.” She smiles at her, and the way they exchange glances, I wonder how much more of that was venting about me leaving. I also wonder how well they know each other.

I smile at the compliment. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Removing her riding glove, she extends a handshake. And instead of pressing for more details about who this woman is to Maggie, I smooth my hand down the side of her Appaloosa’s neck. “She’s beautiful.”

“She sure is.” She shifts a glance to Maggie before she says, “I saw Shelby Calloway ride when I was a kid. She leaned into those turns like nobody else. I’m still trying to figure out how she achieved some of the times she had.” She shakes her head. “I can see you just dying to tell me what I’m doing wrong, Maggie.”

“Shifting too early.” Maggie kisses the horse’s muzzle, just below her noseband. “It’s making her drop her shoulders when you’re going into the turn.”

I raise my eyebrows at the guidance and direction. The way she says it reminds me of our mom. Observation first and then a small rider adjustment that would make a world of difference.

“See, I knew you’d be able to tell me in a second what I was missing,” the rider says with a smile to Maggie.

The bell dings from the ring, along with the announcer’s voice calling out the names of the professional riders participating tonight.

As the rider hoists herself onto the horse, she says, “Faye, nice to meet you. Hope I see you both at the Foxx Bourbon after party later.”

“Maybe,” Maggie says, stuffing her hands into her back pockets. And with a bright smile painted on her face, she watches as the barrel racer trots toward the arena space.

“You like her,” I say, watching and studying the way she looks relaxed, maybe even content, for the first time since I’ve been here.

“I like the way she rides,” Maggie says. “She’s good. Maybe even better than Mom was.” She blows out a breath. “Why did she ever stop riding?”

I answer her based on what I know. “I think she wanted to be more—a mother and a caregiver. It wasn’t about breaking records in rodeos.” I look at the way the horses move around the stadium, the bull riders swaggering in with their wide gait, and the crowd shouting and hollering for each and every one of them. “I think she was chasing a different kind of happy.”

“She sure as shit didn’t find it with Tullis,” Maggie says as she waves toward another group of riders. “He was the one who said to her that the way she trained horses wasn’t professional. Do you believe that shit? That some rich asshole had the audacity to tell her that?”

“I didn’t know that.” I feel a little lost at the idea of not knowing that detail.

She looks ahead toward the crowd in the main gate, where people hover around tables and wait in lines for food, like she’s looking for someone. “Well,” she exhales. “There’s a lot you don’t know.”

“Maggie, I know you don’t understand why I left.”

She barks out a humorless laugh. “Faye, I know exactly why you left.”

I search her face as we start walking, trying to pick up on any kind of tell that what she’s going to say next isn’t the actual truth.

“I wasn’t supposed to be there, but I was,” she tells me as her eyes meet mine.

“Where?” I ask, stopping in the center of the space. People navigate around us.

“Mom wasn’t home when I stopped in to get my fake ID. I was supposed to meet some friends at the bar, and I left my fake at home.” She shakes her head, and my stomach swirls with nerves. “I can’t believe I’m telling you this in the middle of a packed fucking event.” She pulls my arm so we move out of the fray of the crowd.

With one more glance over my shoulder, she says, “Mom came home with Tullis that night, but Waz was with them. It was the three of them in the kitchen.”

I lean away to look at her.How didn’t I know this?

“I sat on the top step and didn’t move when I heard Waz shouting at Tullis first, then Mom. I knew she and Tullis were disagreeing about something regarding training, but this sounded different. Mom said that she knew what they were doing and that she couldn’t allow it to happen any longer.But then she screamed. I heard something heavy hit the ground. And then it got quiet. So I kept as still and quiet as I could.” Maggie’s face looks flushed, emotions rising as she takes a deep breath before continuing. “The next thing I heard was Waz threatening her. He said, if she said a single word about any of it, she would end up just like his brother. And that it wouldn’t be her choking on her own blood on the kitchen floor, it would be her daughters first. Then her.”

My breath catches as I cover my mouth, my eyes watering. I don’t understand any of this—she has to have this wrong. There were no signs that anyone else had been there. And Mom didn’t say anything when I showed up...

Maggie wipes the few tears that escaped from her cheek before she says, “I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to see what had made her scream like that, but I knew it was Tullis. I don’t knowhow much time went by, but then you walked in. And well, you know how the rest of it went.”

My head is spinning at hearing this. How could she have never said anything? What had been going on that would have warranted Waz killing his own brother and leaving a witness? “Did you ever talk?—?”

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