“Did Marcus know Natalie?” Lucky asked.
“Not that I know of.” Bernice set the milk on the counter. “You want to tell me why you’re asking?”
“I met Natalie yesterday at the rodeo and, for a moment, I thought she was Tisha. Some of her friends quickly set me straight.”
“Natalie was at the rodeo?” Bernice sounded surprised.
“Yes.”
“Well, that’s interesting. After her leg got mangled so bad, Natalie stopped going anywhere near horses. Her father sold off his entire stock. About broke his heart. When Robby started wearing a cowboy hat, you could just see Leo wishing he had a horse to put that boy on.”
“You’re not looking for Tisha, are you?” his mother asked slowly.
“It really shocked me, Mom, how much this Natalie looked like Tisha.” Lucky sat down at the table and tried not to notice his mother’s trembling hands. Tisha brought up bad memories. Marcus’s drinking had gotten out of control during the Tisha era. His mom blamed Tisha, slightly unfair, but not completely unwarranted.
Bernice piled pancakes on a plate and set them in front of him. His mother stared at the syrup bottle in front of her but didn’t move. Finally, Bernice reached over and pushed it toward Lucky. “Don’t worry, Betsy. Natalie’s nothing like Tisha.”
Betsy wiped away a tear, and Bernice started talking, even as she dug into her own plate of pancakes. “Everyone loves Natalie. She’s a hometown girl. Family’s been here since the area was first settled.”
Bernice looked at Lucky. “At one time, that girl loved the rodeo as much as you do. Of course, Tisha did, too. My, my, those two girls could ride, but Natalie was a natural. She and little Allison Needham used to practice every weekend. I heard you asking questions about her, too, didn’t I? My Mary said she wouldn’t be surprised if Natalie made a name for herself. She wasn’t too sure about Allison. I think Tisha only rode because she couldn’t bear Natalie getting the attention. When Natalie was still a teenager, she got tossed during the rodeo. She was still using a cane when she graduated high school. If you look real close, you’ll see she still has a limp to this day.”
“I think I saw her,” Betsy said thoughtfully, looking at Lucky and finally relaxing. “She came over to talk to you after the rodeo.”
“Yeah, she did.”
“I only saw her from the back. I didn’t notice she looked like Tisha.”
“Her boy must have convinced her to bring him. Can’t think of anything else that would get her there. She’s a good mother. Too bad there’s not a dad in the picture. She went off to college and came back two years later with a little baby. Leo didn’t even blink, and no one dared say a word or ask questions about Natalie’s situation. She and her dad dote, make that he doted, on Robby.” Bernice looked over at Betsy. “Natalie’s father died just two weeks ago. Heart attack. Real surprise to everyone.”
Bernice turned to Lucky. “Natalie’s dad owned part of the stockyard Howard works at. We all expected to hear that Natalie would take over the reins, but it seems just a few months ago, Leo took out a loan. He used the stockyard as collateral. It’s gone now, Natalie’s livelihood. Word is, she’s hurting for money and might lose her home.”
Lucky nodded. So desperation drove her to him. That she’d risk talking to him, asking him for child support, for help, meant she was pretty much at wit’s end financially. No doubt she wanted money with no strings. He finished his plate and wasn’t surprised when Bernice piled more on.
With each bite, he thought of his brother. Marcus had been a pro at keeping secrets from his family. He’d spent time in jail without placing his one phone call to them. He’d nursed an alcohol addiction that not even Alcoholics Anonymous had been able to counter. But of all his secrets, this one took the prize.
Then, a more subtle thought surfaced, adding one more turn on this roller-coaster ride out of control. Maybe Marcus hadn’t known he was a father?
Suddenly Lucky’s appetite was gone. “Where does Natalie live?”
“Three blocks past the church, turn right and go down Judge Taylor Road all the way to the end.”
He stood. “I need to get going.”
They didn’t ask; he didn’t tell.
He rehearsed his speech on the drive over, in between praying. There were two possible scenarios. One, Natalie was a decent woman who truly needed help. Lucky had watched decent women fall victim to Marcus. Two, Natalie was the same as Tisha. Then, possibly, Marcus had been the victim.
No matter which one she was, approaching her looked to be the hardest thing Lucky had ever done. The words he practiced seemed weak, hollow, accusing. As he pulled in front of the house, he was no closer to knowing what to say to the mother of Marcus’s child.
Sitting in his truck in the driveway, Lucky bowed his head and one last time petitioned his Father. Never had he dealt with such a situation. He couldn’t even come up with a Bible reference.
Natalie came to the door, stared at Lucky, disappeared inside for a moment, then stepped onto the porch. He admired that. She wasn’t going to hide. She’d meet him head-on. He also had to admire the way she looked. White jeans, red button-down shirt. Perky and mad. On her, the combination looked good.
The boy wriggled up next to her. Grinning like it was Christmas and obviously hoping for escape. The tears Lucky evoked yesterday obviously forgotten.
Thank you, God .
Lucky stepped out of his truck. “Ma’am, can we talk?”
“Robby, go up to your room.” She slipped her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and frowned.
“Why, Mommy?”
“Just for a little while. I’ll talk to you later.”
The boy peeked out. “Are you the cowboy?”
“I’m a bull rider,” Lucky corrected, throwing an apologetic look to Natalie. “A cowboy and a bull rider, much better.”
“Better?” The boy looked interested.
“Robby.” The one word did it. Robby bobbed his head, grinned and ducked behind her.
“I wanted to talk to you—” Lucky began.
“I owe you an apology,” Natalie said. “I’m not sure what came over me yesterday. It was a mistake to come see you. We don’t need money. Really.”
Lucky shook his head. “Ma’am, we can worry about money later. Right now, I just want to know how it can be that my brother had a son the family doesn’t know about.”
She stumbled, then stopped to lean against one of the porch’s white pillars. Suddenly, he wanted to go to her. Hold her up. Tell her he didn’t mean to hurt her. Where were these feelings coming from? This morning, with the sun hitting the blond, almost white, highlights in her hair, she looked nothing like Tisha.
“So, you didn’t know,” she whispered before regaining her footing.
She drew herself up, standing proud, yet still whispering. “I always wondered.”
“Ma’am, we had no idea. When I tell my mother about Robby, she’s going to be so happy. I cannot even tell you how much that little boy will heal our family. I know we can work something—”
“No!” She took two slow steps down the front steps. The limp was more pronounced, as if the emotional pain robbed her physically as well as mentally. Still, she managed to keep steady. “I was so wrong to approach you. Robby and I are doing just fine.”
“I