’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.
Natalie had wondered all along if Marcus hadn’t told his family. That would explain why they’d left her alone. Until her dad’s death, she hadn’t cared, really, hadn’t needed help or money.
She should have waited, thought this through, not acted on impulse. Of course, impulse was what brought Robby into her life.
Robby slurped the last of his milk. “I’m finished,” he announced, pushing away the plate. In a moment, he was out of the chair, into the living room and back in the kitchen wearing Pop Pop’s cowboy hat. Too big, it had the habit of falling in Robby’s eyes, and he whipped it off and let out a whoop. Since yesterday, he’d continually ridden a broom around the house. Even worse, he’d gotten really good at pretending to fall off.
He hit the ground, pure rodeo landing, and she flinched.
Pop Pop would have had the video camera out.
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