Daddy for Keeps. Pamela Tracy
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She and Allison had pushed her baby brother, Travis, in his stroller, and now he was all grown up.
“I’ll watch,” Natalie promised.
Robby waited at the ticket booth. Natalie plunked down her money and pushed through the gate. T-shirts were to her right, Native American art to her left. Robby headed straight to the food and smiled. “Hot dog?”
“We just ate breakfast.”
“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