Page 7 of Rough Stock
Shyanna walkedRhubarb around the outskirts of the arena and watched one cowboy after another get ready for the bareback bronc event. God, she wished she had the courage to buck convention and sign up for the events she really wanted, but she knew what would happen?they’d claim an overage and she’d get cut. It was almost certain. That’s what they’d pulled on her every time she’d signed up.
With the mare back in her stall, Shyanna headed to the arena and slipped in at the back of the stands to watch the bronc busting. Only two riders had left the chutes when she let out a shriek at the cold, wet shock that hit her back. Turning, she found a cowboy standing there, one of the guys who’d competed in steer wrestling, holding an empty thirty-two-ounce cup, its contents running down her back, plastering her shirt to herskin. He grinned like a hyena as he said, “Oops! Sorry! Must’ve slipped.” The cowboy with him roared with laughter.
“Fuck you,” she muttered as she stood to leave and hoped she had something clean to change into. She’d planned to do laundry that evening, and thanks to those assholes, it had instantly become a necessity.
“Now is that any way for a lady to talk?” the second cowboy said, still laughing raucously.
“Again, fuck you,” she whispered as she walked past them and headed out the downstairs gate. But she stopped just as she got there, turned, and ran back to the edge of the arena’s lower level.
The next rider up was Jensen, and she wanted to watch. She wasn’t sure which horse he’d drawn, but whichever it was, it was having a conniption fit in the chute. Holding her breath, she waited as they got him situated, and in seconds, he gave them a nod.
The horse burst from the chute, twisting and writhing, but true to form, as soon as those front feet hit the ground the first time out, Jensen lay down the horse’s back, feet well above its shoulders, and she watched as his heels came down on the rise and lifted again on the fall. God, his form was perfect! He made the eight seconds look easy, and when the rescue riders headed for him, it only took him a second to release his hand and reach out, spinning and landing on his feet in the dust as the crowd erupted in cheers.
“Ladies and gentlemen, that was the cowboy from SouthCarolina, JensenStrader, with a score of eighty-eight.”
Eighty-eight? Holy hell, that’s amazing, Shyanna thought. Everything in her wanted to run down there, grab a vest, neck roll, and helmet, and climb on one of those big broncs, but if she thought she was having trouble with the guys already, that would really tip them over the edge.
She cut across to where the broncs were moving back to the holding pens and stepped across the main alley just in time for Jensen to walk out. “Hey, that was an awesome ride!” she told him as he stripped off his protective gear in the staging area.
“Thanks!” he said with a smile, and then his jaw dropped. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Oh, you know, a steer wrestler slipped and spilled his whole damn drink down my back,” she answered, her voice laced with snark.
“Are you fucking kidding me? That’s bullshit right there.” She could tell from his tone that he was pissed. Somebody was pissed on her behalf?that was new.
“Yeah, well, welcome to my world. What else are you up for today?”
“I’ve got bull riding later.”
“And saddle bronc?”
Jensen nodded his head. “Yep. Not my best event, but I wouldn’t miss it.”
She nodded in understanding. “Gotcha. Well, if I can find some clothes to change into, maybe I’ll see you ride.” As she turned to go, she heard him say something and spun, walking backward as she did. “What did you say?”
“I said, how’d you do in tie-down?” She held up two fingers. “Hey, that’s great! Congrats! See you in a bit.”
“Thanks. Yeah. See ya.” Shyanna never stopped moving as she spun back around and headed to her trailer. Bastards.Oh, well, she thought,at least I’ll have a full load when I get to the laundromat.
Barrel racing was next,and then saddle bronc. Breakaway roping would follow that, and then the grand finale, the bull riding event. They always did it last because it ensured that the crowds would stick around to the bitter end. As they set up the barrels, the rodeo clowns did a skit, and Jensen headed to the barn. He’d hung around just long enough to get the scores on his event, and he’d come out on top. The only guy even close to his score had an eighty-one. If he got at least a second place on Saturday, he’d take the event for the weekend.
After he checked on the horses, he wandered back to his trailer. It wasn’t the smallest one made by the travel trailer company, but it was the next one up. For the time being, it was fine. After all, it was just him. It wasn’t like he needed a lot of room.
He grabbed an apple and a bottle of water and sat down for a minute to think. One of the guys had dumped a whole soft drink down Shyanna’s back?how seventh grade of him. She’d done great in the team roping, but he’d given it some thought since that event and he wondered why she didn’t try some of the rough stock events, so he decided he’d ask her. As soon as he was finished with the apple, he carried the bottle of water with him, meandered past the stalls to check on the horses, and headed back into the arena for saddle bronc.
When that was wrapped up and he’d come in second, the breakaway roping started. Of all the events, he was pretty sure it was his least favorite, but he watched the ropers and admired their skill. When they had four ropers left, he tossed his empty bottle in the trash and headed down to the staging area.
Out of fourteen bull riders, he was seventh on the list. Out of the first four, only two made it to the eight-second mark, and neither of them had scores that were noteworthy. Rummaging through the trunk he’d left in the arena earlier, he pulled out his protective vest, neck roll, helmet, glove, and mouth guard, and started suiting up. He hated that mouth guard but, unlike a lot of his peers, he still had all his teeth, and there was something to be said for that.
As soon as the fifth rider popped out of the chute, Jensen didn’t bother to wait for the chute boss to yell out his name and instead headed to chute one. There were only six chutes, so they had to start over at the first chute for him. He’d drawn a huge Brahma named Oscar, and he felt lucky. Oscar was rhythmical in his bucking and fairly predictable, but he was also powerful and had great moves, and the previous time Jensen had ridden him, he’d had a good ride. The bull was a high scorer, and that was all he needed?his riding was good enough that if the bull scored well, they nailed it.
The hands already had the animal in the chute, and he climbed up to stand over him and look down at him.Nice broad back, he thought as he watched the bull fidget. “You about ready?” one of the hands asked.
“Yep. Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jensen answered as he watched the rider right before him drop onto his bull. The cowboy, wearing a hat instead of a helmet, nodded and the chute gate swung open.
Jensen’s eyes went wide. Holy lord, that was one wild-ass bull! The thing pivoted, twisted, and sunfished all over the place, and the rider had trouble hanging on. His grip failed a fraction of a second before the buzzer sounded and he lost his ride.
Well, here I go, he told himself as he straddled the chute, feet on the bars on either side. Climbing down one bar at a time, he pressed a foot into the center of the bull’s back, then continuedhis descent until he could drop onto the animal. With plenty of rosin on the bull rope, he made sure it coated his glove, then wrapped the end of the rope in the traditional manner. The grip felt comfortable and as he worked, Oscar rattled around in the chute, eager to get on with his role. With the flank strap in place, Jensen gave the okay to tighten it and Oscar banged around in the chute even more. One last check of his grip and he leaned back before nodding to the chute hands.
