The Counterfeit Cowgirl by Kathryn Brocato

actually cringe, and each time, Becky Lozano was playing.”
    “It isn’t Becky Lozano,” she said, at last. “It’s the song.”
    “‘Protecting My Baby?’” Aaron listened to the song a moment then grinned sympathetically. “I see. Everyone thinks Becky is singing about her lover, but it’s actually the song of a mother whose child is growing up. Reminds you of home, I suppose.”
    Felicity nodded, and a faint, wry smile played across her full mouth. “You’re right. I quit liking the song as soon as I listened closely to the words.”
    “Exactly.” Aaron cut a piece of barbecue from the bone for Joey and transferred it to the little boy’s plate. “Are you otherwise a fan of Becky Lozano, Miss Clayton?”
    “As a matter of fact, I am.”
    “In that case, you’ll be interested in the news Grover is about to announce.”
    Felicity froze. “You don’t mean … ?”
    “That’s right.” Aaron nodded, inordinately pleased with her expression of blank astonishment. “Becky Lozano has accepted a last minute invitation to fill in as our celebrity entertainer at the Rice Festival this year. Would you like a chance to meet her?”
    A moment later, Felicity recovered her poise. “Thanks, but I’ll probably give the festival a miss.” She fastened her gaze on her plate. “Besides, I’ve already met Ms. Lozano.”

Chapter 4
    “Mama, how could you do this to me?” Felicity cried into the telephone receiver. “You said you weren’t going to come near this town until I’ve had a chance to get this house into better condition.”
    The telephone had summoned her as she walked in her front door. Knowing who was on the other end of the line heightened Felicity’s sense of injury, not to mention her headache.
    “Now, darlin’.” Becky Lozano’s lilting Kentucky accent always grew extremely pronounced when she performed. When it came to explaining her actions to her daughter, she was definitely on stage. “Surely you don’t expect your mama to stay away from her little girl for weeks and weeks. When Randy couldn’t make the show, I just thought to myself, I thought, Becky, you could do that show, and you could see your baby at the same time.”
    “Don’t hand me that,” Felicity grumbled. “I know you made some sort of deal with Randy.”
    Becky laughed warmly. “Well, honey, what else could I do? I needed an excuse, didn’t I? It’s been at least two weeks since I’ve kissed your pretty face.”
    As always, Becky’s heavy use of honeyed words slipped past Felicity’s mental barricades. She collapsed on one of the rickety kitchen chairs, and groaned in protest.
    Being a famous singer who was often separated from her daughter didn’t mean Becky Lozano wasn’t a mother tigress who would die for her cub. Three different cellular telephone companies made fortunes off Becky, and Becky’s daughter usually felt as if her mother was in the next room, even if she was actually on her tour bus on the other side of the continent.
    Felicity rubbed her aching forehead and wondered what it was about her vacation in Texas that sent Becky into a spasm of motherly anxiety. After all, Becky was in Texas about as often as she was in Tennessee, especially now that her career had finally blossomed.
    “Now, sugar,” Becky said in brisk tones, “just you calm your little self down and listen to your mama. In a couple of weeks, you’ll have that house cleaned out, right? Your mama is coming, baby. You and me can have a grand old time just visiting and talking girl talk.” She added on a practical note, “We can tie my appearance in with the Cosmic Cowgirl Boutique. Everybody can come look at my clothes and get an autograph and a business card. Who’s more cowgirl than a country-western singer?”
    The businesswoman in Felicity acknowledged the selling power of a Becky Lozano personal appearance and the attendant print interviews, but this was a case where she’d like to be long gone before anybody found