Cowboy Daddy by Susan Mallery

baby with another man. How many times had she thrown his sterility in his face? How many times had he raged at God for depriving him of a son?
    “Is B-Bobby still there?” Laurel asked quietly, stuttering over the name.
    Anne turned in her seat and smiled gently at Laurel. “A couple of months before you were born he was killed by a bull at a rodeo.”
    The relief was sweet. Jake let out the breath he’d been holding and relaxed.
    “Oh.”
    Jake watched Laurel in the mirror. She dropped her chin to her chest and flopped back in the seat.
    “At least I’ve got you,” she said.
    “And your dad,” Anne said quickly.
    “I’ll always have him,” she said matter-of-factly, then slipped on her headset. She flipped on the tape recorder and started bouncing with the beat of the music.
    Anne shifted to face front. She reached out her fingers and gently touched his forearm. “You okay?”
    “Fine.” Except for the heat boiling between them.
    “I probably should have told you about Bobby sooner. I didn’t think that you’d worry.”
    “I wasn’t worried.”
    She chuckled. He glanced at her.
    “You’re a lot of things, Jake,” she said. “But not a very good liar.”
    He checked the mirror, but Laurel was involved with her music. “Maybe I was a little concerned about having to fight some rodeo cowboy for my kid.”
    “Bobby burned too bright to live very long. I always thought he was destined to die young. I think that was part of his appeal.” She looked out the window. “The turnoff is in about twenty miles.”
    “We’re really in the middle of nowhere.”
    “Tell me about it. I grew up here.”
    As they got closer to Paradise, he could feel her tension growing. Soon they turned off the highway onto a two-lane road. It was late afternoon, but the sun
    beat down unmercifully. The car’s air-conditioning was set to high, but the temperature inside continued to climb. Up ahead he could see a cluster of tired buildings, surrounded by dirt and a few low-lying bushes. There was an elementary school, a diner, a gas station. The general store looked about a hundred years old. An old couple sat on their front porch rocking. Several of the side streets were paved, but some weren’t.
    “Welcome to Paradise,” Anne said. She held herself so stiffly, he wondered if she would snap if he touched her.
    “You want to keep going?” he asked when he saw a sign pointing back to the highway
    “More than you know. There’s something about coming back that makes me feel—” She gave him a quick smile. “Ghosts. Can’t seem to shake ‘em. It’s through here.” She pointed to a narrow lane that dead-ended in a trailer park.
    A few limp trees grew in the dust. Rusting cars sat on blocks. Barefoot kids played around a scraggly bush. His new Ford Explorer was as out of place as a Thoroughbred at a mule sale.
    He heard a burst of music as Laurel pulled off her headset. “You grew up here?”
    “I spent seventeen years in Paradise. All I ever dreamed about was getting away. Becky Sue’s trailer is at the end.”
    He drove slowly to avoid the children and dogs crowding the dirt trail. Jake had assumed Anne wanted Laurel to see where she grew up as part of some master plan to steal her away. Now staring at the sun-bleached trailers, the frayed curtains and dirty children, he knew he’d misjudged her. He thought about her big office and her hopes for a promotion. He thought about her white-on-white condo, another lifetime from here.
    “Park over there,” she said, pointing to a spot past the last mobile home. A lone tree provided a fair amount of shade. As he came to a stop, a group of people rushed out of the trailer. A woman about Anne’s size led the way followed by several children and two mangy-looking dogs. He opened the door and got out slowly. Anne and Laurel followed suit.
    The woman stopped a couple of feet away. Her hair was several shades darker, a true auburn. It was pulled back in a braid, revealing