Daddy for Keeps. Pamela Tracy

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.

      What had Natalie been thinking?

      She hadn’t!

      The loss of her father and the muddle of his finances must have rendered her temporarily insane. It was the only explanation for her behavior.

      Robby galloped back into the room. “Mommy, go park?”

      Natalie nodded. “We’ll go to the bank, and then to the park.”

      That was good enough for Robby. He dismounted, carefully guided his broom horse to lean against the oven and ran to get his favorite train. After she’d cleared up the dishes and zipped Robby into his jacket, they were out the door and heading toward town.

      Selena had one bank. Its claim to fame wasn’t beauty. It was as rectangular as a cracker box and too small for the town. But change came slowly to Selena and not even the town’s most forward-thinking seemed inclined to fix what wasn’t really broken.

      Mondays were busy, which explained why Natalie managed to get past the tellers without chitchat.

      Unfortunately, Robby wasn’t about to miss an opportunity.

      “Hi, Allie,” Robby chirped.

      Allison Needham grinned at him, still counting money without missing a beat.

      “Morning, Allison,” Natalie said. On top of everything else, Natalie always worried that maybe Allison knew a bit too much. After all, she’d been Tisha’s friend back when Tisha came to Selena to spend summers. Then, later, when Allison decided to give rodeoing a shot, she’d followed after Tisha, who was giving rodeoing a different kind of shot.

      Just as Natalie walked toward the bank president’s office, Walter Hughes came out of it. Seven years ago, it had been his office. Now, it was his son’s. He stopped when he saw Natalie, handed Robby a peppermint from his pocket and said, “You need anything, little girl?”

      “I’m hoping your son has a few minutes to give me.”

      Timothy Hughes, who’d sat across from Natalie in almost every class in grade school, and who’d been her first high school crush, came to the door. “Natalie? Come on in.”

      Walter looked at his son and Timothy nodded. “You mind if I sit in?” Walter asked.

      Her eyes started pooling. Walt had thinning gray hair, like Dad. He wore the same kind of casual clothes. He still opened doors for women, and he made her miss her father all over again.

      “No, not a bit.”

      “Let me pull Allison away from the front,” Timothy said. “She can watch Robby for a few minutes.”

      Robby willingly took Allison’s hand, and Allison headed out the front door and down the sidewalk. Robby loved to walk. He could walk up and down the street for hours, seeing the same sights, saying “hi” to the same people, and never get bored.

      It took a few minutes for Timothy to gather the files and punch up her information on the computer. Walter chewed his bottom lip and perused a copy of her father’s will. Yesterday, while Robby napped, she’d spent two hours itemizing what she had, what she didn’t have and what she was unsure about. She’d gone over the will in detail and listed her tangible property. Now, she had very specific questions. Timothy couldn’t answer her concern about the life insurance, but he could show how a good deal of money had gone into a new roof, new air-conditioning and taxes. After playing with the numbers, what she had and what she could earn, he agreed with her assessment. She could make it about three months.

      Walter was the one with questions. “I think I know all of your dad’s tangible personal property, and I’m as surprised as you are that he used the business as collateral for a loan, but, Natalie, were there deeds to any other properties?”

      “None, and I would have known.”

      “And insurance?”

      “The only one I found paid for his funeral.”

      Timothy’s face finally changed expression. “Are you sure there’s not something in your dad’s safe-deposit box? Could you have missed seeing the policy?”

      Natalie gripped the arms of the chair. She’d been so careful with the paperwork, with what was in the house. “I didn’t even know he had a safe-deposit box. I certainly don’t have the key.”

      Hope, Natalie started feeling a dim hope. It made her sit taller, but only for a moment, because the feeling of hope was just as quickly followed by fear. Why hadn’t she known about the box? What if it was empty? Or what if it just held some of her mother’s jewelry—worth a little but not a lot.

      Still, hope flared a bit. What if the missing funds were somehow accounted for inside the safe-deposit box?

       Then she’d have involved the Welch family for nothing.

      “Think you can find the key?” Timothy interrupted her scrambled thoughts.

      “I—”

      “We’re not messing with that,” Walter said. “I’ll make a call. We’ll drill it open in no time.”

      “Dad, that costs almost a hundred—”

      “Exactly what we should pay for not notifying Natalie about the safe-deposit box sooner.”

      An hour later, Natalie knew that approaching Lucky Welch for money was, indeed, the last thing she should have done. Her dad had kept his promise in the form of bank bonds, lots of bank bonds. Barring a catastrophe, they had enough to stay afloat for two to three years, not even counting Natalie’s income.

      It did raise a few questions while still leaving