Page 12 of Cowboys Can't Kiss

I know how to wrestle a steer, but Hunter likes to say things out loud. It’s just the way he gets in the zone. But he has a knack for reading steers, unlike anyone else I know. I may do the physical part with the animal, but he’s part of the reason I do it so well.

Both of us are in position in the chutes on either side of the steer. Hunter is on the right and I’m on the left. The official signals they’re ready, and with a final deep breath, envisioning the time on the scoreboard, I nod to the judge at the steer chute. “Yep!”

Hunter was right and the steer bolts out of his chute like he’s on fire. But Hunter and his horse run the steer straight and I’m alongside it in a blink of an eye. I don’t hesitate. In one fluid move, I’m off my horse and half on top of the steer. My right arm hooks up and under his right horn, and I grip the other horn with my left hand. My feet plant into the soil and using my body weight, I twist the steer. The animal flips to its side on the ground, all four feet leaving the soil.

The crowd goes wild and my heart races as I wait for my official time.

It was a solid run, and the steer trots away while I whoop and search for Hunter. He’s pumping his fist and pointing at the scoreboard.

3.4 seconds.

That’s a personal best for me and the fastest time all weekend.

Trotting across the ring to Hunter and my horse, I swing back into the saddle.

“I knew this would be an epic rodeo for us. Keep that up and we’re winning the season without breaking a sweat.”

I beam at Hunter as the crowd still cheers and shouts my name.

“Fuck, I love this sport!” I shout and tip my head back, howling at the sky.

Hunter laughs as I tip my hat to the crowd and exit the back of the ring. To run a fast time is a great feeling. To run an epic time that nobody will touch has me walking on air. There are still several riders left tonight, and I don’t want to assume I’ve won the event, though. It only takes someone else’s best effort to knock me out of top place.

“No one is beating you tonight, Jack. You can breathe.”

Hunter chuckles next to me and his horse whinnies like she agrees with him.

“You know I don’t like making assumptions.”

The next two wrestlers miss their steer, and it’s no score for both. My heart kicks up a notch and I smooth a hand down my horse, Lady’s, neck. The next man is successful, but far too slow.

I can barely watch the last wrestler. He’s away clean. The steer is on the ground with all four feet pointing up. Hunter and I wait and watch the scoreboard.

3.6 seconds. We won!

Hunter whoops and slaps me on the back. “That’s what I’m talking about! Meet me at the truck after your victory lap.”

I wait at the chute on top of Lady until they announce the second and third-place finishers. When my name is called as tonight’s champion for steer wrestling, I ride Lady once around the ring, waving my hat to the crowd.

When I leave the ring, a voice calls my name and I urge Lady to a stop.

“Jackson! Hold up!”

A man wearing a jacket from the rodeo sponsor jogs up to me. He reaches me, and offers me a hand to shake.

“Thanks for waiting. I’m Neill from Neill and Dunn, the main sponsors of the rodeo circuit this year.”

Smiling, I dismount Lady and take his offered hand in a firm shake.

“Nice to meet you, Neill. Thanks for supporting the events. I love rodeo and you make it happen.”

“Well, I love rodeo too, but I was never good at it. The next best thing is rubbing shoulders with cowboys like yourself.” He hands me an envelope. “This is an invitation to the awards banquet after the Kissing Ridge Rodeo. It’s new this year and we’re inviting all the top performers. My partner wants to meet everyone and their other half.”

Neill is a kind man. People share nothing but good words about Neill and Dunn, and their sponsorship of events comesfrom a genuine love of rodeo. A formal banquet is new, though, and I’m excited it’s in my hometown. “Thank you so much, Neill. Can I come alone? This cowboy is whole as is.”

I gesture down my body with a laugh. Neill pats my arm with a chuckle.

“Oh, of course! No pressure. Dunn just likes to talk to spouses who never get the attention like the cowboys do. You don’t need a date or anything.”

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