He laughed. “I said when I was eight. I think you missed that part. It’s one of the ‘cute’ events that rodeos and fairs and community carnivals puts on. It’s also how a lot of bull riders start. I got pretty good at it. I did it until I was about eleven, entering all the contests I could find around here. My mom would take me or one of the ranch hands would. They all got really into it and helped me out a lot.” I saw him glance at the back or Rob’s head. His eyes looked sad. I wondered why Dad didn’t take him, but I didn’t ask. That was way too personal at this point. “I won lots of trophies and some of the bigger rodeos even paid cash for the mutton. I thought I was a big deal.”
“So how do you graduate from a sheep to a bull?”
“It’s the next logical step,” he said with a grin. God, that grin was a killer. “I did broncos for a while, but it’s just not the same thrill to me as a bull. The broncs are strong, powerful animals, but there’s just nothing like being on the back of a two-thousand pound bull.”
“I would hope,” I said, sarcastically.
He laughed. “Being a bull rider ain’t something that you could ever explain to someone that hasn’t ever done it. It swiftly becomes almost an addiction. It’s not just what you do after a while, it’s who you are. The bulls become your nemesis, and you track them throughout the year to see what kind of scores they’ve been pulling and when you find one that ain’t never been rode…well, let’s just say there ain’t nothing that makes a cowboy’s mouth water more. You develop a mutual respect for them after a while, too.” His eyes lit up when he talked about it and they got a dreamy, far-away look in them. It was easy to see that he was in love with the sport, and I was even more anxious to see him in his element.
“Mutual respect?” I asked, laughing. “How do you know it’s mutual? Are you the bull whisperer?”
He looked into my eyes then and when he had me locked into his he said, “Some things you just know by looking into a pair of eyes.” I shivered. Damn it!
We got to Woodlake around noon. We had pulled the horse trailer up that the guys hooked up this morning with the big black horse in it. I wasn’t sure why until Mark was saddling his up and I asked him. “What do you need your horse for?”
“I help them out in the chutes when it’s not my turn. We all do.”
“Oh, that’s nice.”
“Yeah, it’s more of a team sport than you might think. That’s not to say I ain’t rooting for the other guys to pull a bad bull or fall off in seven seconds.”
“It’s eight seconds that you have to ride, right?”
“Yep.”
“Do you usually make it?” He grinned broadly and with a sexy, confident look he said, “I’m 6 and 0 so far this season. I heard Stacks is here today, though. He’s a twenty-two hundred pound brahma that ain’t ever been ridden. I’d give my right arm to ride him, but at the same time, I’d like to keep my record.”
“Then just stay on his back for eight seconds,” I said. “How hard can it be?” He looked up at me and I grinned.
“Maybe one of these days you might like to try it and find out for yourself,” he said with a laugh.
“I’m sure I could do it. It really doesn’t sound that hard.” He laughed again and then swung up on the horse. My chest actually physically hurt and all kinds of things were going on below my belt.
“I’ll just bet you could,” he said before riding off. He left me standing there breathless and with my heart hammering against my rib-cage. What an ass.
I was still looking after him when my mother’s voice startled me. “You want to go look around in the booths until it starts? Rob found a seat and I doubt I’ll get him out of it until it’s time to go.”
“Sure,” I said. “What do they have in the booths?” Mom was leading me towards a long row of wooden kiosks. It looked like a street fair almost. Kids were getting their faces painted and clowns were blowing up balloons.
“A lot of handmade things,” she said. “Jewelry, knick-knacks, you name it.” We went up to the first stand and it was a collection of things leather. There were leather chaps and boots and vests. I looked at the chaps and let my dirty mind picture Mark in a pair of them before the shop keeper said, “You look like you could use a real pair of boots.” I looked down at the ones on my feet and I saw the corner of Mom’s mouth quirk up.
“What’s wrong with my boots?”
The shop keeper, a big, Native American man said, “Nothing at all, Miss – if you’re in New York or L.A. They’re…shiny.”
I laughed at the look on his face. “Real boots aren’t supposed to be shiny?”
“Ask this beautiful lady next to you,” he said about my mom. “Look at her boots, perfect.” Mom laughed as I looked down at her feet. Her boots were exactly the same as the pair he had on display.
“You didn’t happen to buy those here, did you?” I asked her.
She was smiling. “No…but I did buy them from his shop in town.”
Shaking my head and suddenly self-conscious of my five hundred dollar boots I said, “Fine, I’ll take a pair in a size seven…non-shiny please.” The big Indian grinned and winked at my mom.
“Come on in this week, Mrs. Roberts, and I’ll take care of that discount for you.”
“Why you little sneak. You get a discount for steering customers this way.” She just laughed and then she completely negated her own discount by paying for my boots. I tried to argue with her, but truth be told, the money all comes from the same place anyways: her.
We looked around a little more and bought a homemade root beer and a funnel cake before we heard the event was about to begin. We made our way back to the stands and Rob. I saw mom offer him a bite of her funnel cake and he just wrinkled his nose at her. Rob didn’t look as happy today or seem as good to my mom as he had last night. Come to think of it, I had barely heard him say two words all the way up here. I hoped that he and Mom weren’t having problems. She seemed happy and thrilled to be here, so I doubted that. It must just be his own stuff.
“Have you seen him ride before?” I asked Mom.
“No. I’m really happy we came today. He talks about it all the time…”
She wasn’t finished when Rob interrupted her by sarcastically repeating, “All the time.” I didn’t like him being rude to my Mom, and I wondered why he suddenly seemed to have a chip on his shoulder about his son. Or was that there last night and I just didn’t see it?
Mom just furrowed her brow at him and went on to say, “This is the first one we’ve had a chance to attend.”
The announcer came on then and welcomed everyone and announced the opening ceremonies. Three pretty horses came out. One carried an older man holding an American flag. The other two were pretty young girls in brightly-colored cowboy hats and shirts. There was a circle of riders behind them as well. We stood up and the national anthem was sung very prettily by one of the girls. Mom told me afterwards that she was the rodeo queen and the younger girl was her princess. I had no idea they had queens and princesses in the rodeo. I guess I had a lot to learn.
After the opening ceremonies ended, the rodeo began. The first event was mutton busting, so I got to see firsthand what Mark had been talking about. The little ones wore helmets and vests and the clowns worked overtime to get them out of the ring when they got thrown off. He was right about it being really cute, but I’m not sure if it was my child that I’d be able to sit and watch. It looked dangerous, even though the clowns were keeping a really close eye on them. I looked at Rob and wondered if he ever regretted not really coming to see his son when he was that age and doing this. As much as it would make me nervous, if it was my kid, I don’t think I could stay away.
There were several other events before the bull riding, like barrel racing which was really cool. The women were all dressed in rodeo clothes, but they were bright, pretty feminine colors – even their boots and hats. Their movements on the horses were so graceful, and as I watched them I wondered again why Mark didn’t hav
e a girlfriend. He was around all of these pretty girls all the time and from what I’d seen of him so far, he wasn’t shy. Maybe he did have a girl and I just didn’t know about it yet. It’s not like we’d had all that much time to talk.
The next events were calf roping and then team roping. I felt a little sorry for the calf and for the first time that day I saw Rob smile at me as he assured me they weren’t in any distress. I almost asked him the “calf whisperer” question, but I decided that his sense of humor didn’t seem as well-developed as his son’s was. I was surprised at how much I was enjoying it overall. I would have never considered going to a rodeo before.
Every so often I’d let my eyes wander over to where Mark was. He’d gathered with some of the other riders and they were talking and I supposed getting ready. He was wearing leather chaps and when I saw that, I felt a tickle deep in my belly. The men were helping out with the different events, and I would see him swing one of those long, leather clad legs over his saddle every so often and have to catch my breath. I told myself to stop looking at him…but it was so damned hard.
The announcer finally announced it was time for the bull riding event. He had said earlier the attendance today was over eight-thousand. The stands were packed, and when he announced the event, there was a rumble through the crowd. Bull riding was obviously a popular one. I looked over towards the chutes and watched as they got the bull and the cowboy ready. I could see Mark on top of his horse, tying rope or something as he bent over the chute. Even on a horse and covered in a light sheen of sweat he was amazing to look at…who am I kidding? Especially on a horse and covered in a light sheen of sweat. Jeez, this man was going to be the death of me. How had I never known how much cowboys would turn me on? I guess I’d never really been exposed to them before. I looked around at all of the other cowboys. Of course, a lot of them were attractive – but no tickle in the belly. Then my eyes would find Mark again and there it was. With a sigh, I turned my attention back to the event and surprisingly I got even more into it. The bull riding was definitely going to be my favorite.
As the announcer read out the names of the bulls and their riders and the audience clapped and hollered and held up signs with not the cowboy’s name but the bull’s, I found myself cheering right along with them. He announced the first rider. He was a guy named “Tuck” Gardner. The announcer said he’d been riding bulls for thirteen years and was ranked number two on the circuit. He’d pulled a bull named Travis. I laughed at that. Travis? Really? I didn’t know any of Travis’s stats, but I already preferred “Buttercup” just because she had a cooler name that didn’t sound like she should be a jock instead of a bull. I thought about her being a bull and realized that “she’s” probably a “he,” too…maybe it wasn’t such a cool name. I mean, doesn’t “Buttercup” sound just a little bit feminine for a tough guy bull?
The next bull was Mr. Doubtfire. I scoffed at the name at first until I saw him dance in the ring. He threw his rider off in under three seconds. The guys next to me said his average was four or less. Like Stacks, he’d never been ridden. After he threw the rider off, he strutted around, stopping occasionally at the fence to make eye contact with someone in the stands. I started to understand what Mark meant about their eyes. You could see in his that he wanted to convey what a stud he thought he was. It was as if he was saying, “Ride me if you can.”
After seeing Mr. Doubtfire, I developed my own respect for them, and I started rooting for the bulls almost as much as I did for the cowboys. I actually think I rooted for them more, until Mark’s name was announced overhead. He hadn’t drawn Stacks. I wondered if he was happy about that or disappointed. He was on a bull named “Destructor.” I wondered if he was as ominous as his name. I didn’t have to wonder long after the chute was pulled open and the bull and his gorgeous rider emerged.
Destructor was a cream-colored bull with giant horns that came out bucking all four legs off the ground at once and he did a spin with his almost two-thousand pounds of bulk that most ballerinas would be jealous of. As impressive as he was, I couldn’t help but find the cowboy sitting on top of him even more impressive. He was wearing a vest now that matched his chaps. I guessed it was the kind of vest that bull riders wear to protect their internal organs, but on him it just looked hot. He had on one black leather glove that he held onto the rope wrapped around the bull’s chest with and as Destructor twisted and spun around, Mark’s body seemed to move fluidly right along with him. It was like watching a beautifully choreographed dance, and I was mesmerized. If a bomb had gone off in the stands during those eight seconds, I don’t think I would have even noticed. When the buzzer rang, I was on my feet with most of the rest of the attendees. Mom was right next to me. Mark slid off the bull and picked up his hat that had flown off when he came out. Destructor seemed angry and went after him. Mark had to jump up on the fence to avoid the bull and then the rodeo clowns chased him around until they got him back out of the ring and into his pen. Mark raised his hat once more before he left the ring, and I could see that sexy confidence on his face and in his posture. I hadn’t been able to take my eyes off of him and was kind of relieved when he finally left the ring. I knew I was a little bit more excited than I should be. My face was flushed and my heart was racing. I was truly happy for Mark, which I guess is strange since I barely knew him. I looked over at Mom, she still looked excited, too. Maybe it was an adrenaline surge thing. Then I glanced at Rob who was still sitting stone faced in his spot. I wondered what his excuse was for not seeming to be excited at all.
CHAPTER NINE
MARK
There is absolutely nothing like staying on the back of a good bull for that full eight seconds. I jumped off of Destructor with the help of the rodeo clowns and picked up my hat and then threw it up in the air. The adrenaline rush was incredible and I was even happier for it when I saw that Destructor thought we had unfinished business. I ran and jumped up on the fence just as Curtis and Troy, our clowns, shooed him out of the ring. I raised my hat again and took another round of applause before I finally headed for the gate. I’d never been high on any kind of drug, but I couldn’t imagine that it could even come close to this. When I glanced up in the stands and saw Lexi and Lydia on their feet cheering for me, I got another shot of the rush. I told myself it was because I’d never really had family in the stands cheering for me – at least, not since my mother died. But mostly, if I was being honest, I had to admit that when I looked up at Lexi, the rest of the people in the stadium disappeared. I did notice my dad sitting firmly rooted to his spot. I don’t think his hands even bothered to pretend to clap. Oh well, I didn’t care. It was nice to have people here, and I was going to feed off of that for now.
When all was said and done, I ended up finishing second, which thrilled the shit out of me. The guy who drew Stacks actually rode him, so of course he won because of Stacks’ high rank. It was a little bit disappointing to know that could have been me if I’d drawn him. It also could have been me in the dirt on my ass though, too, so I should be happy for what I did get. Second qualified me to move on. I was confident that as long as I kept giving it 100%, one of these days the stars would all line up just right and I’d be going down in history as one of the greatest riders of all time like Lane Frost or Freckles Brown. I got my buckle and my check and then I started breaking down and loading up my equipment. As I was loading up my horse Sarge, my family found me.
“Mark! You were amazing!” Lydia said. She gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“Thank you,” I told her. Lexi was smiling at me. God, she’s so pretty.
“You really were,” she said. “I never thought I’d enjoy something like this, but I had a great time.”
“Good. Thank you both for being here. You too, Dad.” Dad made eye contact with me and gave me a quick nod. I wasn’t foolish enough to think that I’d get any better than that. Oh well, at least he was here, right? “Hey! Y’all want to go out to dinner and celebrate? It’s on me.”
Lydia was still smiling and she looked like she was going to say yes. My father had different ideas, however, and he didn’t seem to be concerned at all with what Lydia wanted to do. “No. We’re too damned old for all that. Sitting on this damned hard bench all day was quite enough and now we have a three hour ride home. Thanks, but no thanks.” Lydia looked irked, but she didn’t say anything. I was used to Dad, so I expected it, but I was embarrassed when I saw the look on Lexi’s face. She recovered it quickly, but the disapproval was there.
Dad drove home again and at least I got to have Lexi to talk to in the backseat. She had all kinds of questions about the rodeo and how bull riding is scored and she actually listened and acted like she cared about my answers.
When we got close to the house, she looked at the time and said, “It’s early yet. I could stand going out for a celebratory drink if you want.” For a second I considered the fact that she was my stepsister, then I tried to decide whether or not she was just feeling bad for me because my dad was an ass; then I decided I didn’t care about any of it, I wanted to go out and have a drink with her.
“That sounds great,” I said. “I’ll just shower when we get home so I don’t smell like a bull.”
“You don’t smell like a bull,” Dad said from the front seat. “You smell like an ass.” He laughed heartily at his own joke. I chuckled. Lexi and Lydia were smart enough to see it for what it was: a not so subtle put down. Neither of them laughed.
While I showered, Lexi “cleaned up.” She looked fresh to me, but I guess a woman who has sat on a wooden bench in a rodeo arena was probably not feeling that way. I was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs a half an hour later and the woman that came down towards me could have graced any billboard or magazine cover. She was so much better than those two dimensional models, though. She was real fluid movement when she walked and there was real humor in her laugh. She didn’t seem to know how beautiful she was and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why. She’d put on a denim skirt that came to her ankles and wore a soft looking pair of brown leather boots with it.
Ride Me Cowboy Page 4
