Cal put the plate on the bench beside him. He took a swig of pop and then belched, covering his mouth with his hand. “A double is my single. Triple cheeseburger here.” He took a huge bite and chewed for a while. “Big day at the lake. The boss let us all have one last flight in the seaplane. He even let me take the yoke for a little bit once we were up. Then we cleaned and put away the kayaks and everything for the season.”
We watched the saddle bronc riding and the steer wrestling events. After a long while I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath of that smoky, earthy rodeo smell.
“Having fun?” Sweeney asked.
I opened my eyes. “Yeah. This is good.”
“You deserve it, buddy.”
Finally it was time for the barrel racing. “Becca’s second in the order,” JoBell said as she sat down next to me again and took my hand. “I love the barrel racing. Definitely my favorite event. Plus it’s like the only one that’s all for the girls.”
The first cowgirl rode into the arena and then kicked her horse into a gallop past the starting line. She circled her horse around the barrel to her left, then rode over and went around the barrel that had been to her right.
“She cut that too wide,” Mr. Wells said. “She’s losing time.”
As the rider’s horse rounded the third and last barrel, it stumbled a little, disqualifying her from the event. She trotted back slowly toward the gate.
“Becca’s up now,” JoBell said.
Lightning trotted through the gate into the arena with Becca smiling in the saddle. She leaned forward and patted the horse’s neck, whispering something into its ears. Then she kicked her horse into a gallop, riding smooth like in the grand entry, but even faster. She guided Lightning through a tight loop around the left barrel and then they shot off to round the second.
“Come on, Becca,” I whispered. “Come on. You got this.”
JoBell squeezed my hand as Becca and Lightning circled the last barrel and bolted toward the finish line.
“Thatta girl! Go, go, go!” Mr. Wells shouted. Everyone cheered as Lightning crossed the line and trotted out of the arena.
“Well, folks,” said the announcer. “Becca Wells is the blazing-fast cowgirl who takes the lead in tonight’s barrel racing with a time of seventeen point five nine seconds. Outstanding.”
I stood up and stretched. No use watching the rest of the barrel runs. Nobody was beating that time. “I’m going to go help Becca get Lightning brushed down and everything. You guys coming?”
“I want to watch some more of this,” JoBell said. “Tell her I said good job.”
Sweeney and Cal waved me off.
I left the arena and headed off into the shadows by the rows of horse trailers. Becca was nowhere to be seen, but Lightning was tied to the side of her trailer with the saddle already off. As I approached, I could hear Becca messing around inside the trailer, putting stuff away.
She stepped out of the little side door near the front and wiped her hands on her jeans before she leaned back against the trailer. “You did good tonight, Lightning. Real good.” She stroked the horse’s forehead. “That was a good ride. I wonder if he’ll notice.”
“If who will notice what?” I asked.
She jumped and Lightning jerked her head up. “Danny,” Becca said. “What are you doing sneaking up on me like that!? You about gave me a heart attack.”
“Sorry,” I said.
Becca smiled. “No, you’re not.”
“You’re right. I came to see if you needed any help, and to tell you that was an awesome ride.”
“I’ve had better rides,” she said. “It’s not my best time.” She shrugged and looked down, and I’m not gonna lie, but with her little pout and the way the light from the arena shined on her red-brown hair, Becca looked really pretty. Not for the first time, I thought about setting her up with somebody. She should have someone. It was too bad Sweeney was … well, the way he was.
She tossed me a brush. “I’ll get the bridle off, if you want to brush her down.”
I started brushing Lightning’s rump, while Becca took out the horse’s bit and removed the bridle.
“I’m going to take this all apart so I can clean it better,” she said as she unhooked the bit from the bridle, dangling the metal piece by the reins. “Are you nervous about your bull ride?”
“Naw,” I answered. I never really got too nervous until I was in the chute getting on the bull. Then during the ride, there was no time to be worried or to be thinking about anything. I straightened my lucky cowboy hat on my head and said something that had been creeping around at the edge of my thoughts all evening. “But I don’t know, Becca. I don’t know if I’m very into this tonight. I’m not so sure it’s a great idea for me to get back on the bull.”
“But you’re so good at it,” she said.
“I hope you’re right. It’s just, we’re seniors now, and I was already feeling like this was our last chance for all of us to have fun together, here where we all grew up, I mean. Now with all this stuff that’s happened since Boise, maybe we’ve already missed our chance. Maybe it’s been stolen from us.” I rested my head against Lightning’s flank. “I wanted to live my life, you know? But now …”
I felt her arm around me and her hand rubbing my shoulder. “You’re going to be okay, Danny,” she whispered. “We’re your friends. We’re here to help.”
“You Danny Wright?” said a deep voice behind me.
I lifted my head and turned to face three guys, two in full cowboy getup, hats, boots, and all. The third, in a ratty T-shirt with a baseball cap on backward, stood with his arms cocked back a little and his fists at his sides. I’d been in enough fights to know this was trouble.
“Yeah,” I said. “What do you want?”
Baseball Cap elbowed the others. “See? Told you it was him.” He took a step closer to me. “Lot of people are dead ’cause of you.”
“You weren’t there.” There was a coldness churning somewhere deep inside me, and my heart began pounding. It was a lot like the feeling I had right when I first climbed up on a bull. “You don’t know shit.”
“Why don’t you guys leave us alone?” Becca asked.
The taller of the two cowboys stepped up. “Bitch, shut up and stay out of this.”
I threw my fist and cracked that bastard in the nose. Blood splattered everywhere, and my left hook sent him spinning to the ground. When Baseball Cap launched at me, Becca whipped the horse’s bit around by the reins, snapping him hard in the nuts. He groaned, grabbed his crotch, and dropped.
Short Cowboy connected with a hard right jab that put spots in my vision on my left side. Another shot crunched into my gut. My hat fell in the dirt. I could hardly breathe. I managed a little shove to get him off me. Tall Cowboy rose to his hands and knees, but I kicked the toe of my boot into his ribs.
“Think it’s fair to kick a man while he’s down?” Short Cowboy shoved me back into Lightning. The horse whinnied.
Becca swung the bit around over her head to hit Shorty’s face. Blood arced from his mouth as his head spun away from the impact. “Think it’s fair to gang up three to two?” she said.
I had most of my breath back now. “You done?” I asked as Shorty wiped the blood from his mouth. He put up his fists and took a step forward. I shook my head. “Guess not.”
I ran straight at him. My fist connected hard, sending tingles up my forearm. Shorty dropped to the ground, a bloody nose to go with his bloody mouth.
“Now you’re done,” I said as I picked up my hat, dusted it off, and curled the brim a little.
Baseball Cap held up his hand as he slowly stood, still bending over from the pain. He helped the other two up, and they walked off, but Baseball Cap stopped when they were about ten yards away. “This ain’t over, Wright.”
“I’m right here,” I said with a lot more guts than I felt right then. I put my lucky cowboy hat back on and put my hands on my hips. “You guys get a couple more of your friends together, then maybe you can give me and this girl a fair fight.”
“This girl?” Becca said when they’d walked off into the shadows. “You say that like you think it’s a bad thing.”
“You know I don’t think that way,” I said, rubbing the heat from my jaw where Shorty had punched me. “But those guys do. Or at least they did before you crushed that guy’s balls.”
“Where’d you learn to fight like that?”
“Oh, freshman year, Sweeney and me were nervous about starting high school, so we promised that no matter what happened, we would have each other’s back. Problem is ‘Sweeney’ sounds a lot like ‘weenie.’ Then, like an idiot, Eric decided that he’d fight anyone who called him that. So, of course, I’d have to join in. We were in so many fights that year — half the time with juniors and seniors, even.”
“I remember.” She laughed. “I thought you two were going to be expelled. Or killed.”
“We got our asses kicked plenty of times, but we won more than a few. People finally stopped messing with us sophomore year.”
By the time we finished cleaning up Lightning, it was time for the bull riding to start. I was fifth in the order. The first three riders were good. All of them made it eight seconds and had decent scores in the mid to high seventies. The fourth rider looked strong coming out of the chute, but his free hand hit the bull when it switched directions on him.
Then it was my chance. I slipped on my gloves and climbed up on the wooden fence around the chute.
“Next up, ridin’ a bull named Revolution, is one of our own, seventeen-year-old Daniel Wright.”
As soon as he said my name, the bleachers erupted in cheers and boos.
“He’s active not only in Idahayew rodeo, but also in the Idahayew Army National Guard.”
The hysteria in the stands was building. One man flipped me off. A bunch of people clapped. Rick Hayes didn’t seem to know what to say for once. A couple guys started shoving each other, almost getting into a fistfight until others broke it up. A bunch of people were running their comm cameras to record it all. I realized they were probably reporters who had snuck in. They were dressed a little too nice for rodeo. I sighed. Bull riding was hard enough at the best of times. All this chaos was the last thing I needed.
A horrible shriek of microphone feedback blasted out of the speakers.
“Now listen up, folks,”
Rick Hayes said.
“Daniel Wright is a soldier who has promised to put his life on the line for our freedom, and part of that freedom is the right of innocence until proven guilty. What’s more, as cowboys, cowgirls, and fans and friends of rodeo, we may love a rough sport, but we are, at heart, ladies and gentlemen. If yer not gonna act that way, I’m gonna ask you to leave.”
Gradually, people sat back down on the bleachers.
“That’s better,”
Hayes said.
“Now more than ever, we have to remember that we are all Americans, all proud of our home, and proud to take part in Idahayew rodeo! So let’s get that cowboy ready and ridin’.”
I started to climb down onto the bull, but Short Cowboy came up on the fence right next to me. “I been slapping this bull around. Poking at him. Pissing him off. You’re gonna get bucked and then stomped. This bull’s gonna kill you, Wright.”
I flicked the guy in the nose where I’d punched him before. He winced and backed up. “You got a little swelling there,” I said. “You’re gonna wanna ice that.”
Then I pushed my lucky hat down secure and dropped onto the bull, grabbing the bull rope. Revolution breathed deep beneath me, shifting the tension in his huge packs of muscle. I gripped the rope hard with my right hand and held my left up as my free hand. This was what it was all about. Eight seconds in an eternity of intensity. This was rodeo.
When the chute opened I watched Revolution’s head. He was looking straight ahead. He’d buck straight. He lunged forward, landing on his front hooves before throwing his hind legs up in the air. I stayed centered over my riding hand. Revolution jumped up with all four legs off the ground, his back twisting in midair. He landed hard and I clamped his sides even tighter with my legs. He puffed out through his nostrils. He was pissed. He spun to the right, and I shifted an inch. Not good. I tried to recenter myself, but my hand slipped on the rope. Revolution bucked one more time, his front legs high in the air, and I could feel the heat of the friction as my glove slid along the rope. I flew off, crashing hard to the dirt and scrambling to my feet to get clear. His hooves stomped down a few feet away, and he seemed to glare at me, his big black eyes zeroing in with rage.
Then the clown came, shouting and distracting Revolution to drive him away from me. I grabbed my cowboy hat from the dirt and ran for the edge of the ring.
“So close. About seven and a half seconds. Let’s have a hand fer Danny Wright, ladies and gentlemen,”
the announcer called out.
I climbed over the arena fence, trying not to notice Short Cowboy clapping and whistling behind me, then walked off into the shadows away from the crowd. I’d been bucked off before. Every cowboy has, but I used to get absolutely pissed about it. After disqualification, I’d keep my cool until I was out of the arena. Then I’d cuss up a storm and kick at the dirt.
Tonight was different. Even though this was the first time I’d been bucked off in years, the first time ever while wearing my lucky cowboy hat, I wasn’t very mad. Tonight bull riding felt like building forts in the woods as a kid: huge fun back then, but not so important now. Rodeo used to be a big part of my life, but now I knew it was part of my old life. And after everything that had happened, after the fight tonight, I knew my old life wasn’t coming back.
Eventually I found my group out by Mr. Wells’s truck, which is usually where we met up after events. JoBell put her arms around my neck and kissed me. “Sorry, baby. But hey, you haven’t been in a rodeo all summer. It’s bound to take a while to —”
“Get back in the saddle?” Sweeney asked. Cal and Becca groaned.
“Well, yeah, I guess,” JoBell said. “If there were saddles in bull riding. Still, you must be bummed.”
“I’m okay.” I shrugged. “There’ll be other rodeos.”
Then JoBell took a closer look at my face. She frowned. My cheek stung as she touched it. “When did you get this?”
“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. I got it in the bull ride.”