Daddy for Keeps. Pamela Tracy

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.