by Pamela Tracy
Natalie relaxed after her second piece of fried chicken. It was only the second time Lucky had seen her without a pinched and somewhat panicked expression. He took another picture, this one of Natalie.
She’d almost relaxed with him Wednesday night during church, when he’d confessed that he was the baby of the family.
He caught Bernice’s eye and smiled. This was her doing. Marcus had always accused Bernice of putting a truth serum inside her chicken because it seemed the whole family loosened up and came clean during one of her meals. Except for his dad, of course. Henry Welch had only made it to Bernice’s table a handful of times during his marriage to Lucky’s mother, and Lucky had grown up wishing Bernice’s husband, Howard, were his father. Howard not only seemed to enjoy spending time with his family at the meal table, but also he wasn’t above refilling a tea, cleaning up mashed potatoes from the floor or even doing dishes while his wife and her best friend simply sat on the front porch and talked.
“You going to stay at the ranch now that your dad’s gone?” Howard asked Natalie.
“Yes. It’s a perfect place to raise a kid. Plus, how could I leave? That place has been in my family more than a hundred years.”
“Sure is a big house for one little girl,” Howard said.
“Yes, but the little girl’s lived there her whole life.” Natalie didn’t miss a beat. Lucky liked what he saw. She knew what she wanted, and she went after it.
He sat up and leaned forward, watching her face, her expressions, her mannerisms. She was a lady through and through. Amazing. And not Marcus’s type at all. Natalie was Mary Ann. Marcus liked Gingers.
She continued, “Not much about the house or the land I don’t know. I’m going to offer MacAfee more grazing land, and then the only thing I’ll need to worry about are the four acres around the house.”
Lucky watched the interchange. These were questions he’d wanted to ask, but didn’t know how. When he’d first come to town—had it really only been two weeks ago?—everyone was talking about Natalie’s lack of money.
Just last Tuesday, when he’d sat across from her at the diner, she’d let him know money was no longer a problem.
“Place the size of yours takes a lot of upkeep,” Lucky said. He almost added that it would be hard enough for a man to take care of the grounds and chores, but he choked back the words. They sounded too much like his father’s.
“For emergencies I have Patty and her husband. My dad’s friend Walt calls almost every night.”
“Uncle Walt gave me a lollipop,” Robby added, letting them know that while he didn’t follow the conversation, he knew it was going on.
“I like lolpops,” Rachel agreed, nodding seriously. Mary’s older son paid no attention to the conversation.
The fried chicken was that good.
Howard nodded. “There’s not much about the financial dealings here in Selena that Walt doesn’t know.” Turning to Lucky, he said, “Walt owns the bank. He’s turned the reins over to his son—”
“Who Natalie used to date,” Mary interrupted.
“Lord, I forgot about that,” Bernice said. “That was how many years ago?”
Natalie was blushing. “Too many to count.”
Mary turned to her mother. “How many kids does Timothy have now?”
“Three, and his wife’s pregnant with the fourth.”
“Peter, Timothy’s middle boy, is Robby’s age,” Natalie said. “We belong to a playgroup that meets every Monday morning. I haven’t been since my father died.”
“You need to go again,” Mary said gently. “It’s good to get out. I’d go nuts if not for the time we spend with friends who have kids my kids’ ages.”
Natalie looked at Lucky, and he saw her eyes go liquid.
“There’s just been so much going on,” she said softly.
“Some of it is good,” Bernice reminded. “You’re keeping the ranch.” Then Bernice looked at Lucky and said, “Robby needs a father figure more than he needs other little kids. Who better than Lucky?”
“Mother!” Mary gasped.
Lucky might have gasped himself, but he was lost suddenly in Natalie’s shimmering blue eyes.
“Mother,” Howard said gently and looked at Robby. “Little pitchers have big ears.”
Bernice took a bite of chicken and chewed while trying to, pretending to, look contrite. “Okay, okay, I’ve never understood that saying, but I know I promised not to interfere.”
“What do you do besides the playgroup?” Mary asked. “My kids like it best when the toddlers from church get together. It only happens about every three or four months but—”
“I’m not a toddler.” Johnny spoke for the first time.
Mary reached over and tussled his hair. “Of course you’re not.”
“Last summer we did the Mother and Toddler swim class. Robby was the best one there. He jumped in the first day. The lifeguard was impressed. If he could listen and follow directions, they would have moved him up a class.”
“I a good swimmer.” Robby held up his plate. “More?”
“I’ll get you more,” Bernice offered. “He has a good appetite, Natalie. What’s his favorite meal?”
“Spaghetti, but he usually winds up wearing more of it than he eats.”
“Johnny was like that,” Mary said.
“Was not!” Johnny said it loud enough that both Rachel and Robby stopped eating.
“No yelling at table,” Robby instructed.
“Table,” Rachel agreed.
“One time,” Natalie said, “when Robby was about eleven months and I wasn’t looking, he managed to load most of his spaghetti into the back of one of his toy trucks. I noticed about two days later. Yuck.”
Everyone laughed, and finally Lucky was able to tear himself away from her eyes. What he couldn’t seem to do was forget Bernice’s “father figure” remark. No one else seemed to be dwelling on it, though, not Natalie, and not Mary, who was laughing as she said, “Oh, Johnny did that, too, only with macaroni and cheese.”
Johnny squirmed. “Did not.”
Lucky shook his head. His mother had a similar story about both him and Marcus. She would have loved hearing what Natalie had to say. Bernice did a great job of making everyone feel comfortable. Still, she kept giving Lucky side looks, as if she blamed him for his mother’s absence. Or maybe she blamed him for not jumping up and demanding more time with Robby.
He needed to assess what he was doing here. He’d made his list, but despite the long-term on it, had he really thought beyond the next six months? The list only offered the basics. It didn’t deal with just how much Lucky might want to add to the list.
Lucky put his third piece of fried chicken down and thought back to what Marcus had said about Bernice’s chicken and truth serum.
In truth shimmering blue eyes made him want to stay in Selena as much as seeing Robby did.
“Lucky!” Mary said.
“What?”
“You’re doing that staring thing again. You know, like you did when you were in high school and had better places to be than at our table.”
“I never,” Lucky insisted, “had better places to be than in front of Bernice’s fried chicken.”
Inviting Mary and her family was a stroke of genius on Bernice’s part. Not only did having other young children make it more comfortable, but also as the meal continued on to dessert, Mary and Natalie shared a few memories. Natalie knew about Mary’s exploits, and Mary knew about Natalie’s barrel-racing skills.
By the time lunch was over, Rachel and Robby were nodding off, and Bernice was pushing everyone out the door so she could do dishes. Alone.
“It’s easier,” she insisted.
Natalie pulled Robby from his chair. He curled his arms around her neck and murmured, “Mommy, no sleep.”
“Yes, sleep,” Natalie said gently.
Mary was gathering Rachel up. Her blossoming figure didn’t hinder her at all. “Let’s put them on my mother’s bed.”
&n
bsp; Lucky followed, watching the two women. Rachel was asleep; Robby was not. The moment Natalie laid him down, he popped back up. Natalie leaned over and whispered something in his ear. He looked at Rachel, nodded and settled into the pillow.
After she pulled the blanket over Robby, Natalie followed Mary out into the hall and managed a smile at Lucky.
“What did you whisper in his ear?”
“I told him to stay with little Rachel for a few minutes to make sure she’s okay, and then I’ll come and check on him.”
“So he’s not going down for a nap?”
“He’ll be asleep before I make it to the bottom of the stairs.”
About the time he and Natalie reached the back door, Johnny and Howie Junior were running toward the mini-arena. Mary trailed by just a few feet. Howie Junior turned on the radio and Van Halen blasted.
“You choose the music?” Mary asked.
“Yes,” Lucky said, thinking he should direct his answer to Mary but unable to take his eyes away from Natalie. “When you’re teaching young bull riders, ‘Kum Ba Yah’ just won’t do.”
Natalie put a hand over her heart. “I’m appalled.”
“Honey!” Mary’s husband called.
“Coming,” Mary yelled. She studied Natalie and Lucky. “You two be good.”
They both watched as Mary walked away, singing to the classic rock lyrics of Van Halen and looking every bit like she belonged onstage.
Lucky waited until she was out of earshot and shook his head. “That girl.”
“Has a vivid imagination,” Natalie agreed. “Give me a minute. I’m going to run upstairs. I promised Robby I’d check on him.”
She hurried back to the house.
Lucky enjoyed the view. She didn’t exactly run, more like scooted, and her shoulder-length hair bobbed with each step.
She told Robby she’d come back to get him, and even though she knew the little boy was probably asleep, she was keeping her word.
He admired that.
He knew the power of the Word. He’d taken on the role of preacher more than two years ago. First, helping his mentor. Then, filling in when no one else was willing or available. Finally, he’d stepped up to the plate, accepted God’s calling and started organizing the services at the rodeos he attended. Cowboy Church filled a necessary void. Demand, not only among the rodeo participants, but also among the fans, increased every year. If he wanted, he’d have a pulpit, be it a tree trunk, every week, and he’d have listeners. Of course, Cowboy Church was nothing like the church here in Selena. Lucky sometimes wanted a regular church. Other times, the thought of trying to meet the needs of a diverse congregation scared him to death. Cowboy Church meant a certain breed of people. It didn’t mean singing, one preacher, a chance to repent and then a prayer before goodbye. It meant lots of people coming forward and confessing their sins, both to relieve their hearts but also to encourage others. If there needed to be a baptism, they had to find a place to do it. Watching hearts heal had done a lot for Lucky because he’d seen firsthand what havoc loss of hope did to individuals, families, lives.
Maybe if Marcus had tried a littler harder, stayed with Natalie a little longer, then his life would have been different.
What little time Lucky had spent with Natalie certainly inspired him to want to try a little harder.
Stay a lot longer.
You two be good. He, unfortunately, had a vivid imagination, too, and wasn’t entirely opposed to what Mary was thinking. Watching Natalie hurry down the back steps and toward him, he tried to remember that she was the mother of his brother’s son. Instead of choosing the necessary path, the questions he needed to ask about Marcus and Natalie’s past, Lucky queried, “You ever been here before?”
“Yes, but it’s been years. Looks like they’ve done quite a bit to the place.”
He started with the barn, noticing how she dragged her heels when they came near the stalls. He took her through the fields and down to a creek. At first, he talked about the land, comparing it to his grandfather’s place. Then, he moved on to his career.
“Marcus always seemed to make the top fifteen. Me, I managed to stay in the top forty-five, which means, actually, that I made good money. Not as good as Marcus, but good enough to keep me in the game. This year, I’ll be lucky to be in the top hundred. I’ll probably break even this year. That is, if I don’t skip any more rodeos where I’ve already paid the entry fee.”
She shuddered. “I can’t even imagine jumping off a bull.”
As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t tell her what she wanted to hear, because while she couldn’t imagine jumping off a bull, he couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
Yet.
“Most jobs are dangerous. We bull riders just have to acknowledge that the bull is bigger than we are and know how to get out of the way. It’s the know-how that makes the difference. You take most people, they go to work, and if something dangerous pops up in front of them, they haven’t any know-how.”
He looked down at her.
“Nice try,” she said. “But I design Web pages for a living, and there’s nothing you can compare to the bull in my profession.”
He grinned. She had him. Now, if she’d used her father’s profession, owner of a stockyard, he’d have had an argument. If she’d used Howard Senior, or Mary’s husband or…
“A computer could fall on your head. You could be electrocuted,” Lucky offered.
“I use a laptop, it weighs eleven pounds. I also have a surge guard.”
“I won’t be a bull rider forever. Someday, I want to retire, have my own church and maybe a place like this.” They’d circled the perimeter of Bernice’s house. “I’m just not ready to throw in my hat, change my life, yet.”
The breeze suddenly took on a colder feel, one that had Natalie studying him intently before turning back at the house. Lucky didn’t know if it was truly the weather that clutched at his heart, his declaration that he could retire someday or the look on her face.
It was the first time he’d uttered the word retire aloud. He looked down at Natalie, blaming her for his change of heart, and noted how the top of her blond head came to just under his chin. He noticed how she kept her hands in her jacket pockets and how she watched Howie Junior and Johnny practice falling off the bales of hay. Funny, until he had Natalie at his side, he hadn’t noticed how they always playacted writhing in pain.
He wasn’t ready to throw in his hat yet. But if he made Selena his home base, and he fully intended to, Natalie Crosby just might help him get there sooner.
Chapter Eight
N atalie looked out the window for the tenth time. Any minute now, per their agreement, Lucky would drive up and load Robby into his truck, into the car seat he’d borrowed from Mary, and off they’d go to church. Natalie would be in the house alone for the first time since her father’s death. She could work on Web pages uninterrupted. She could sit in a comfy chair and read uninterrupted. She could maybe clean out a closet or two uninterrupted.
It was going to be a long, boring day, uninterrupted.
As if affirming her assumption, Robby crawled on the couch next to her and peered out the window, too. “Here yet?”
“Not yet.”
“You come?”
“Not this time.”
“Okay.”
It was that easy for Robby to accept Lucky and a boys’ day out.
Not that Lucky Welch could be described as a boy. No, he was a man, bigger than life, who was upsetting the applecart as her dad would say.
“Church fun,” Robby remarked.
“I’m glad you think so.”
Lucky’s truck bounced into sight right then, and Robby was off the couch and tugging on the front doorknob before Natalie had time to smooth her hair and make sure her shirt was tucked in.
“Morning,” Lucky called, stepping down from his truck and heading up the walk.
Yup, bigger than life. He wasn’t a cowboy this morning. No, in a black suit, wh
ite shirt and gray tie, he was definitely a Sunday-go-to-meeting man. Natalie couldn’t say why she was surprised. Maybe because on Wednesday night, he’d been relaxed in jeans and a flannel shirt. Looking down at Robby, she rethought his black jeans and blue sweater.
Lucky must have read her mind because when he got to the front porch, he said, “Robby looks fine. I’m all dressed up because this morning the preacher’s wife called. Seems Tate’s not feeling too good. They asked me to preach.”
“Then Robby will be in the way. I can keep him home, and you can take him some other time.” She’d meant to sound helpful instead of hopeful, but no such luck.
Lucky chuckled. “Mary’s still in town. She’s been bribing Rachel all morning with getting to see Robby again. She’d have my head if I showed up at church empty-handed. Robby will sit with them during the beginning minutes of service, then there’s a children’s hour.”
“A children’s hour?”
“Kids ages two to ten have their own service, down in the basement. There’s puppet shows and singing.”
Again, Natalie considered that the church Lucky was describing was not the church she remembered. It was more a church she wished she remembered.
Robby held out his hands, and Lucky picked him up. “You weigh as much a baby bull,” Lucky teased, hoisting the little boy high into the air. Then, he did something Natalie didn’t have the strength to do. He flew Robby in the air all the way to the truck. Robby chipped in by making plane sounds. A moment later, Lucky deposited Robby in the child’s seat and then started fumbling with the buckle.
“I do it,” Robby offered.
“Oh, no, no, no.” Natalie left the safety of her porch, where she’d been watching her son too willingly go off without her.
She nudged Lucky aside and took the harness and first attached it at the chest and then between Robby’s legs. She could feel Lucky practically pressed against her. She wanted to say, Hey, preacher man, isn’t there, like, a two-fingers rule about how close you can stand to the opposite sex? But she knew he was just studying her every move, watching her buckle Robby in, so he could buckle Robby in safely, without her assistance. Knowing that, she didn’t mind if he stepped on her toes.