Daddy for Keeps

“But I still hungry, Mommy.”

“Nothing tastes better than a rodeo hot dog, Natalie.” The comment came from one of her dad’s friends, manning the concession booth. “My treat.”

Natalie swallowed. This was harder than she’d thought possible. Why had she imagined that she could attend this rodeo and just melt into the crowd? She’d lived in Selena all her life, and she knew this was a time-honored event. Everyone would be here—from her old kindergarten teacher to the bank teller who handled the Crosby transactions.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll pay.” She added a soda for herself and held Robby’s hand as they followed the crowd. He stopped to gape at the cowboys sitting on the fence.

Lucky Welch wasn’t one of them.

The bleachers were already pretty full, and Robby frowned at the people who’d beaten him to the most coveted seats. “Mommy, we sit there.” He pointed to a spot near the top. People were pressed together, and the walkway was crowded with spectators.

“Over here!” Patty Dunbar, her best friend, waved from the crowded bottom row. Robby headed right over and plopped down in Patty’s lap.

“Oomph, I think you’ve gained a ton since the last time I saw you.” Patty settled Robby next to her own son, Daniel, and scooted to make room for Natalie. “I cannot believe you’re here.”

“Me, neither. Where’s the baby?”

“With my mother, and don’t change the subject. Why are you here?” Patty whispered the question so only Natalie could hear. Ten years ago, Natalie broke her hip at this very rodeo. That had been enough reason to keep Natalie away. But, of course, that wasn’t why Patty was asking.

Natalie knew exactly what Patty was really asking because Patty was the only one in Selena, besides Natalie, who knew who Robby’s father was.

Before Natalie could respond, the “Star-Spangled Banner” boomed from the sound system and the grand entry began. Everyone stood, and the cowboys took off their hats. Natalie saw him then, in the arena, standing amidst a straight line of competitors with his hand over his heart. He was more compact than she’d imagined and looked more serious than some of his peers. He actually looked like he believed in, enjoyed, the national anthem.

Natalie spent the next few hours watching the steer wrestling and the team roping. She took Robby to the bathroom twice and then for a walk during the barrel racing, denying it was planned timing, not that Patty believed her, and the whole while Natalie pretended not to look for Lucky. Bareback bronc and saddle bronc riding were next; Robby was mesmerized. After that, she watched her son attempt to catch a greased pig and pretended not to look for Lucky again. This, of course, was followed by another trip to the bathroom.

Finally, it was time for the evening’s final event—bull riding.

The term “crowd favorite” took on new meaning when Lucky Welch’s turn came. He rode often, and he rode hard, scoring in the eighties on a bull named Corkscrew. To Natalie’s eye, Lucky looked like a rag doll with one hand tied to a moving locomotive. She felt faint. What if he was killed? It only took one fall, one wrong move! She knew that from experience. So did Lucky. Just down the bleacher, a woman yelled, “You can do it, son!”

Leaning forward, all Natalie could see was big hair. Lucky’s mother had been introduced to the crowd a few hours ago. Standing alongside Allison and other past queens, those who’d bothered to show up, Betsy Welch smiled, but the smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Yes, the Welches would still be grieving Marcus the way Natalie and Robby were grieving her dad. Difference was, as Walt kept pointing out, Pop Pop took care of his own. Or at least tried to.

Marcus had only taken care of Marcus.

Next to Lucky’s mother sat Bernice Baker. For the last year, really since Robby stopped looking like a baby and started looking like a Welch, every time Natalie saw the woman, she headed the opposite way.

Bernice Baker was probably the only person in town who might notice how much Robby looked like a Welch.

Long shot, but a shot nevertheless.

Natalie almost chuckled. Since Robby was a baby, she’d been worrying about Bernice, about Marcus showing up. Now she was willingly looking for Lucky Welch and thinking about confronting him. She was even worrying about the match between him and the bull.

The woman yelling “son” was only a basketball toss away, and Robby had no idea she was his paternal grandmother. Oh, no, no. This was not something Natalie could do after all. She changed her mind, started to stand, but she chose the wrong moment. She was stuck. She couldn’t pull Robby left or right. Not while the crowd was this worked up, not at the climax of the rodeo. She stretched her leg, trying to ease the stiffness, and watched as Lucky Welch made the eight seconds and jumped from the bull to land on both feet. The bull made a move, Lucky ducked behind a clown, and it was over. The crowd roared. The scores to be announced, but finally the day’s events ended. A human surge began exiting the rodeo. Robby, who’d never been to a rodeo, finally felt overwhelmed by the crowd and clutched at Natalie’s hand. Daniel, a rodeo veteran at just five, headed for the edge of the arena. Patty was right behind.

Natalie panicked. If she saw Lucky, and he was alone, she’d approach him, she really would, but if she—

Suddenly, Lucky was heading straight for her with a swagger that screamed pure cowboy. His belt buckle was even bigger than his confident strides. He wiped dust from his hat, smiled, and Natalie thought maybe he had the whitest teeth she’d ever seen. Another bull rider walked beside him.

Natalie stopped in her tracks. Lucky stopped, too, and caught her eye. “Do you want an autograph?”

Oh, no! He thought she was a buckle bunny.

In a way, his assumption knocked down the defenses she’d so carefully erected while she was watching him. Unfortunately, she forgot to consider that the other side might not have a safety net. “No,” she blurted, “I don’t want an autograph. I want help with Marcus’s son.”

Chapter Two

L ucky had spent a lifetime learning how to harness control, and he wouldn’t lose it now. Even if a buckle bunny was trying to tarnish his brother’s memory.

The cowboy next to him looked at Lucky with a relieved expression, said, “I think this one’s for you,” and took off for the cowboy ready room.

The threat of paternity suits was a real issue to the boys on the circuit. Most played hard and all too often got mixed up with women who wanted bragging rights and/or a piece of the purse. Well, this gal had really missed the boat. What kind of woman showed up six months after a bull rider’s death and…?

Lucky backed up. The noise of the crowd had boomed only a moment before, but now he didn’t hear a thing. He could only look at the woman and the little boy by her side. She looked right back at him, young, curvy, blond, her eyes wide with fear. To his dismay, something registered, a glimpse of a memory.

No, it couldn’t be.

“Tisha?” It had been over three years since he’d last seen her. She looked different, but then hard living had a way of changing people.

It had certainly changed Marcus.

The woman’s eyes narrowed. Tears disappeared, replaced by anger.

Marcus had dated Tisha Crosby for just over a year. She’d wiped out his bank account and his heart. Marcus hadn’t been the same afterward. Maybe this was why. Lucky didn’t know that much about kids, but the boy could be the right age. Plus, he had the look—the Welch look. Thick, dark brown hair, piercing brown eyes and the square chin that made shaving a time-consuming venture. Something akin to fear settled in Lucky’s stomach.

Looked like the family roller coaster was about to switch into high gear again—thanks to Marcus.

The woman—it must be Tisha—clutched at the boy and pulled him close. Regret washed over her face, replacing the anger. Well, at least she cared for the boy. From what Lucky remembered, she’d been a cold, calculating woman. Not everyone saw past the beautiful facade she presented. Marcus hadn’t.

“Never mind,” she whispered. “We were wrong, so wrong, to come here. Come on, Robby, let’s get out of here.” She stumbled between two people. Robby—eyes wide—tried to hurry and keep up with her.

“Wait!” Lucky was at her side in two seconds.

“Leave us alone. It was my mistake.” She held up a hand, stopping him, and somewhat regaining her composure. “We want nothing to do with you.”

He started to follow her, and he would have, if he hadn’t seen the tears streaming from the boy’s eyes.

Lucky didn’t want the boy—his nephew maybe?—to be afraid of him.

“Everything all right?” Three men, strong farmer types, materialized in front of him, blocking him. Their words were directed at the woman; their granite gazes were aimed at him. Lucky stopped. As for Tisha, she wasn’t taking the time to answer. Just like that, he lost track of Marcus’s son. The woman had him by the hand and was hurrying him through the crowd.

“I just need to talk to her,” Lucky said. He took one step then halted as the men angled for a block. They looked meaner than the bull he’d just ridden.

“It looks like she doesn’t want to talk to you,” the biggest one said.

“Tisha!” he hollered. He took a step and then noted that, if anything, the three men had moved closer. He considered his options. Three against one was more than he bargained for, especially when some blond-haired woman, her purse all primed to bash him upside the head, joined the fray.

“Tisha,” the blonde spat. “You think she’s Tisha?”

“Isn’t she?” Lucky croaked.

“No, that’s Natalie. She happens to be Tisha’s cousin, but that’s all the resemblance there is.”

He saw the woman then, leaving the front gate, with the little boy. He could see now that her uneven gait wasn’t fatigue, the earlier stumble was not clumsiness. She stopped by a small car parked in a handicapped spot. Yup, the limp was real.

He’d have to rethink this encounter, which might have been his all-time low.

The next time he said a prayer, he’d have so much to say it might take him a year to get to “Amen.” Especially since he had no intention of sharing this information with his family until he was sure. It wasn’t the first time Marcus had been accused of fatherhood. But this time, the child looked like a Welch, and somehow Tisha was involved.

He nodded at the three men before they could move any closer, skipped the ready room and, still in his gear, headed for his truck. Intuition told him Robby was indeed Marcus’s son. More than intuition told him his mother would never understand Lucky not sharing the discovery with her immediately. In essence, he was robbing her of precious days of grandmotherhood.

But gut feelings were not always reliable. Otherwise, Lucky would hold a few more titles and have a lot more money and a whole lot fewer broken bones. He’d look into this Natalie woman and wait before telling his mother, even though keeping the secret might be a crime he’d pay for later.

Once Lucky had opened the truck’s door and climbed behind the wheel, he dialed his lawyer—not that he expected the man could be reached on a Saturday night. After letting the phone ring until it went to voice mail, Lucky left a quick message for him to call, hung up and stared out the truck’s windows. Without exception, the festive mood of the rodeo carried over to the dirt parking lot. Exhausted-looking children clutched treats, toys and their parents’ hands. Adults laughed, took sips of soda and reached for the ones they loved.

Normal, so normal.

Once again, Lucky’s emotional roller coaster crested a steep incline.

“Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.”

The Bible verse came suddenly and comforted his spirit. He pocketed his phone, shed his gear and headed into town. There was a dance, there were bars, there were plenty of places to go to find out what he most wanted to know. Based on how quickly the farmer types had circled, Lucky figured Natalie was well-known and well-liked in Selena. Before he met up with her again, he wanted a little history, some semblance of equal footing.

On her and her cousin Tisha .

He drove down the middle of town, intent on stopping somewhere but seeing no place where he’d feel comfortable. The tent on the fairgrounds holding tonight’s dance was too crowded and upbeat, the bars in town too crowded and dark. He turned around and cruised again. Finally, he settled on a 1950s-style diner on the edge of town with plenty of horse trailers in the parking lot. Surely he’d run into not only peers but also locals inside. As long as the three farmer types were content to stab chicken-fried steaks instead of him, he’d be good.

He didn’t even make it inside the door.

“Lucky Welch. Wow, I enjoyed watching you! Where you going next?”

The man was a young local and today had been his first competition. Travis Needham, Lucky remembered. He had spunk but was as clumsy as a puppy. He hadn’t known how to handle his draw, scored dead last and had enjoyed every minute of the rodeo. Lucky envied him. The first few years he and Marcus rodeoed had been magic.

“Not sure,” Lucky said as he looked around. There were plenty of familiar faces, but most were seated at tables with no empty spaces.

“Join us,” Travis invited. Us looked to be a young woman and older man, both looking a lot like Travis.

Never look a gift horse in the mouth . His grandfather had actually been talking about horses when he shared the proverb, but today Lucky knew it had more than one meaning. “Thanks.” He sat next to Travis and directly across from the older man. Putting out his hand, he said, “I’m Luc—”

“I know who you are, son.” The man put down his fork and returned the handshake. “Travis has been talking about you for months, ever since you accepted the invitation to headline the rodeo. I’m Fred Needham. Guess you can tell by looking, these two belong to me. Sure enjoyed seeing a pro today.”

“Selena holds a nice rodeo.”

“I’ve seen you compete quite a few times.” Travis’s sister didn’t hold out her hand although she’d set her fork aside the moment he sat down. If anything, she looked a bit reticent.

“Allison, don’t bring it up,” Travis urged.

“Bring what up?” Lucky asked.

“I was at the rodeo, the Denton rodeo,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, so sorry.”

Denton…six months ago, where everything went wrong.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, too.” He looked at Allison. She looked right back at him, and he got the feeling that if it had been up to her, he would not have been invited to join them. He didn’t know why. He’d never seen her before. “Did you know Marcus?”

“I knew him because of Tisha.”

Fred frowned. Lucky waited a moment, trying to figure out if the frown came because of Marcus or Tisha. If he were a father, he’d keep his daughters away from men like Marcus and his sons away from women like Tisha.

Finally, Travis filled in the silence. “Allison and Tisha were roommates for a while. Allison used to rodeo. She was in Denton cheering on a friend.”

Allison nodded. “I used to rodeo. When I practice, I can do the cloverleaf in eighteen seconds without touching a single barrel. When it’s the real thing, the barrels move in front of me.”

Travis nodded. “I’ve seen them sprout legs. Ain’t pretty. Now, the way you ride that bull is magic, Lucky. I didn’t realize your mama had been a one-time rodeo queen here in Selena.”

“I told him,” Fred said. “He just didn’t listen.”

A harried waitress found their table, refilled the Needhams’ iced teas, cleared plates and took Lucky’s order.

Travis took a long drink and then said, “Man, it was a treat to have you competing. This turned out to be the biggest rodeo Selena ever hosted. We had cowboys show up today who always bypass us in favor of Lubbock.”

Lucky smiled. “I had fun.”

“Where’d you learn to sit the bull? My dad’s always helped me, plus all the guys around here do bull outs on Saturday night.”

“You know where Delaney is?”

Fred nodded. “It’s about forty-five miles west of here. Not much there.”

“My grandparents lived there. Grandpa actually competed against the legend Jim Shoulders. I don’t think Grandpa ever won a thing, but man, he loved the bulls. He taught my brother and me what equipment to buy, which hand to favor, how to get off and how to get away.”

“How old were you?” Allison asked.

“He started us when we were ten, but it was mostly play. Then, when we hit thirteen, he took us as far as we’d let him.”

“Only forty-five miles from here.” Travis shook his head. “I had no idea you were so close.”

“It’s a small world,” Lucky agreed. “My mom even went to high school here in Selena.”

There wouldn’t be a better opportunity, so he looked at Allison and said, “So, you traveled with Tisha. Did you know my brother?”

Allison paled. “Tisha was just beginning to date him when I was bunking with her. Pretty soon I didn’t bunk with her anymore. I went on my own—”

“Came back home,” Fred interrupted.

“—soon after they started getting serious.”

“I tried to warn you about that girl,” Fred said.

Allison’s lips pressed together in a look of agitation Lucky knew all too well. “Dad,” she said. “Leave it be.”

“Is that how Marcus met Natalie Crosby, through Tisha?”

“Natalie knew Marcus?” Allison looked surprised. “Really? I didn’t know.”

This was not the response Lucky was hoping for. He’d been thinking he’d hit pay dirt. Really, who would know better than an ex-roommate of Tisha’s?

“Yeah, I think Natalie knew Marcus. We, the family, are still trying to put together the last few months of his life. He wasn’t at home. We’re not sure where he was staying. Guess it wasn’t here.”

“No,” Travis said. “I’d have known if he was here.”

Lucky’s food arrived. He really wasn’t hungry, but Texas hospitality would keep the Needhams with him as long as he was eating, and he had a lot more questions. He took a bite and said, “They look alike, Tisha and Natalie.”

“That’s ’bout all,” Travis said. “Natalie’s lived here all her life. Tisha just came for summers. All the guys liked Tisha.”

“They like Natalie, too?”

“It was a different kind of like,” Allison said, looking at Lucky with suspicion. It was definitely time to change the subject.

“What happened to Natalie’s leg?” Lucky asked.

Fred answered this one. “The rodeo. All the girls, Allison, Natalie, even Tisha, were into barrel racing.”

“Natalie was great,” Allison said. “When we were fifteen, she could do the clover in twenty seconds. No one else could. Sure made Tisha mad.”

“She fell during the rodeo you just competed in,” Fred said. “Her horse went right and she went left. She landed on one of the barrels. We didn’t know how bad it was until later.”

“She finished the school semester in a wheelchair,” Allison added.

“A few months later,” Fred continued, “her dad sold all the horses. Natalie hasn’t ridden since.”

Lucky pushed his plate away. All that was left was a few crumbs. “She have a boyfriend?”

“Why, you interested?” Allison asked.

The table grew silent, and Lucky shook his head. “Just curious.”

Fred pulled out his wallet and placed some money on the table. “Right now, Natalie doesn’t need any more complications. Not with her dad so recently deceased.” He looked at Lucky. “You do what? Way more than a hundred rodeos a year? Do you even remember the name of the last girl you paid attention to?”

This conversation had definitely taken a turn Lucky wasn’t prepared for. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. Fred took that as an answer. Then, he stood and looked at Allison. “It’s about time to set the babysitter free. What say we head home?”

Allison stood, looking relieved, shot Lucky a look he couldn’t read and followed her dad out the door.

“I take it Natalie’s a touchy subject?”

Travis just shook his head. “Not usually, but her father died just a few weeks ago, and some are saying he was having money troubles. Dad thinks she’s in danger of losing her home.”

“What about Robby’s father? Is he helping?”

“No one knows who Robby’s father is.”

Later, Lucky stared out the window of Mary’s room at a full moon. He didn’t get along well with his father, never had, but Lucky couldn’t imagine his dad suddenly being gone. Lucky should have asked more questions about Natalie’s family. He weighed his options. Child support, money for Marcus’s son was no problem, but it would certainly come with strings. His parents, especially his mother, would want to be involved in the child’s life. There were also aunts, uncles, cousins, friends…

Lucky’s last thought, before drifting off to sleep, was just how Marcus had kept this a secret and why?

Natalie stretched. All morning she’d battled fatigue and stress, and wouldn’t you know it, she’d done some of her best work. Glancing at the printout, she then looked at the screen, checked all the spelling and once again made sure the video trailer she’d created took only seconds to load.

She usually didn’t get to work this late in the morning. Usually, by now, she was watching The Wiggles with Robby. She’d been lucky seven years ago, when she’d created a Web site in a high school computer class. The teacher liked her design and introduced her to his wife, who’d started designing Web pages as a stay-at-home job. Natalie and she became business partners. When Natalie got older and her partner had two more children, Natalie took over the business and it grew.

It had paid for college so that her father didn’t have to. It had helped support her and Robby. But it hadn’t covered everything. Natalie needed to gain more clients now.

“Mommy, milk.”

“Sure, Robby. When did you wake up?”

“When my eyes opened.”

She pushed the laptop toward the middle of the table and stood. Julia Child had nothing to worry about. Natalie’s idea of a good breakfast was a pancake she could pop in the microwave and a cold glass of milk.

Robby, a boy of few words in the morning, got himself a plate and paper towel, and then climbed up on Pop Pop’s chair and waited.

A minute later, the newspaper hit the front door and the pancakes were ready.

Robby got the paper; Natalie set the food out.

The front page of the Selena Gazette featured the rodeo, make that the rodeo star.

A bit of pancake lodged in Natalie’s throat. She tried to swallow, but coughed. Half of her glass of milk soaked the front of her shirt; the other half splashed onto the floor. She quickly grabbed a rag. Usually, it was Robby’s spilled milk. Unlike her, he didn’t cry over the mess. But then, she really wasn’t crying about the milk.

After a moment, she sat back at the table and stared at Monday’s newspaper. There he was. A winner. The picture had been taken yesterday, as Lucky conducted something called Cowboy Church. Standing next to him, with admiration written on her face, was a local girl, a Realtor’s daughter.

She’d expected Lucky to show up yesterday. It had taken every ounce of courage not to turn off the lights, shut the curtains and move heavy furniture in front of the door. But instead of showing up at her door, the Big Bad Wolf had been at church.

She glanced at the newspaper article. Cowboy Church? Okay, maybe Big Bad Wolf was an unfair moniker. And, in truth, she’d started this fiasco—she and her big mouth.

Lucky had looked shocked by her announcement—and her demand.

Even from the grainy black-and-white picture, Natalie could see what made him more than a typical cowboy. He had a magnetism that upset her stomach. She wanted to blame the pancake, but in all honesty, it was Lucky who sent the butterflies fluttering in her stomach.