Banjo

by Graham Salisbury

  She started back toward the stock pens. I’ll say, Are you Danny Mack? And if he says he is, I’ll say, Did you lose a dog? And if he says he did, then I’ll say, Well seriously, how does somebody lose a dog?

  That’s what she’d say.

  But Danny Mack was gone.

  50

  Danny frowned. All he did was touch his hat, and the girl bolted. What was that about?

  He removed his hat and checked it for dust, then put it back on. Did he know her? He didn’t think so.

  He walked back toward the arena, where she’d gone, but stopped short when he turned the corner. She was talking with some guy who towered over her.

  Danny backed away.

  He had to focus on what he was here to do, not follow some girl around. By now, Dad would be spitting nails.

  But Dad just gave him a nod. “Nervous?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Let’s get these horses ready. Where’s Tyrell?”

  “Concessions. He’ll be along.”

  Danny’d entered two events—individual tie-down first, and team roping later.

  Pete stood relaxed as Danny gave him a quick brush down, saddled him, checked everything carefully, and swung aboard. He walked Pete around in back of the arena. They moved into a gentle trot and went right to loping to take the edge off both of them.

  Danny came back, dismounted, and checked his gear once more. Everything was tied down tight.

  “Ready?” Dad said.

  Danny nodded.

  Tyrell came back with three cold bottles of water and handed them around. They all took a drink.

  Dad set his bottle down and reached out his arms. “Come here, boys.”

  As always before competition, they gathered in a huddle, arms around each other’s shoulders as Dad spoke. “We all know our jobs and we do them well, but that doesn’t mean there’s no danger in a rodeo arena. Danny, you stay focused, and don’t think too much. Let your training carry you through. And let us all be reminded to treat the animals and ourselves with respect, and let the miracle which created us all always keep us safe. We good?”

  “Good!”

  They broke apart.

  Danny grabbed his rope and piggin’ string and got back on Pete.

  When his time came, he walked Pete over to the three-sided box next to the calf chute. He held his coiled rope in his left hand and shook out a loop with his right. He tucked the tail end of the piggin’ string under his belt and held the looped end in his teeth. He turned his head to the side and pulled the string up to make sure he had enough slack so it wouldn’t get jerked out while he was in the ring.

  He backed Pete into the box.

  The girl.

  Who was she? Why’d she been looking at him? And why’d she run off?

  Don’t think about her! Only about this!

  It was just him and Pete getting out of that box and onto the calf. The only thing that existed in the world was the calf, eyes on the calf.

  Danny backed Pete crossways to the rear corner so both he and Pete could see the chute.

  The girl popped back.

  No!

  You’re on Pete.

  You’re in the box.

  Watch your calf.

  He leaned forward, boots braced in the stirrups.

  In a minute it would be over.

  When the calf faced forward, Danny nodded to the gateman.

  The gate flew open.

  The calf burst out of the chute.

  When the rope barrier that held Danny back snapped, Pete leaped forward, knowing just where to go, what to do, how close to follow. Danny leaned into the run, felt the rush of speed, watching the calf’s back, the head, the horns. He forgot the crowd, the arena, the burning sun.

  There was Pete, the calf, and his rope.

  He swung once, then again. On the third swing he let the loop fly. It sailed out and settled around the calf’s head perfectly.

  Pete pulled up and dug in.

  Danny yanked the slack and pitched it up, then tagged Pete to tell him he’d be dismounting. In the same motion, he dismounted on the right, in position to grab and lift the calf with his stronger arm, keeping low, hitting the ground, running.

  With his left hand on the rope, he ran down the line toward the calf. Pete pulled back, holding the rope taut. When Danny reached the calf, he grabbed its neck with his left hand where the rope was. He dug his left knee into the calf’s shoulder, then reached over with his right hand and gripped its flank. With a massive burst of strength, he flipped the calf clean on its side, lifting then dropping it so fast and hard the calf’s hooves came off the ground. If they didn’t, he’d suffer a ten-second penalty.

  Calf down, Danny grabbed its two back legs and one front leg, took the piggin’ string from his teeth, and whipped it around the feet, three wraps and a half-hitch hooey.

  Done!

  He stood and raised his hands, time!

  He walked back to Pete, mounted, and moved him forward, taking the tension off the rope.

  The field flagger rode up to check the tie. It had to hold for six seconds.

  It did.

  Two wranglers ran out and untied the calf. It got to its knees, stood, and trotted out a gate at the far end of the arena, no worse for the wear.

  Danny coiled his rope and laid it over his saddle horn.

  One of the wranglers gave him his piggin’ string back. “Nice job, kid.”

  Danny nodded, then grinned as his time came over the loud speaker.

  “Ten point two seconds. Good enough to put the young man from Redmond in second place. Give Danny Mack a big hand, folks. He’s only thirteen years old. You’re gonna hear a whole lot about this homegrown cowboy in the years to come.”

  Danny finally became aware of the crowd. He looked up, raised his hat, put it back on. Ann and Tyrell were standing and waving at him, yelling. He looked for the girl but saw only colors and blurs.

  Six cowgirls raced in on horseback with colorful flags to circle the arena, waving and smiling at the crowd.

  Danny rode out slowly.

  I’ll call Meg Harris tonight.

  51

  Meg watched Danny’s event from a seat in the fourth row, just down from the blond girl. Out there roping, he’d surprised her. What he’d done was a thing of beauty.

  Something wasn’t right.

  A boy who was that good with a horse could never abandon a dog. There was more to this than she understood. Time to figure it out.

  Just as she stood to go looking for him, the blond girl passed down the aisle.

  Meg froze.

  The girl smiled at her and continued down the stairs.

  Without thinking, Meg called, “Wait a minute.”

  The girl turned, her smile changing to a look of curiosity.

  When Meg got out to the aisle, the girl asked, “Do I know you?”

  Meg shook her head. “No…but…you’re with Danny Mack, right? The guy who just…”

  The girl beamed. “Wasn’t he fantastic?”

  Meg nodded. “Yeah, he was good.”

  “Do you know Danny?”

  “No, but…”

  If Meg said she wanted to meet him, she’d sound like some cowboy groupie.

  The young woman tipped her head to the side. “Want to walk with me? I’m thirsty.”

  “Sure.”

  “I work with Danny’s brother at Les Schwab,” Ann said. “Sometimes Danny comes in with him. He’s a really nice kid, dedicated.”

  “He works at Les Schwab?”

  “Not yet, but he’s hoping to. What’s your name?”

  “Meg.”

  “I’m Ann.”

  They headed toward the concessions. The bronc riders were up now, but Meg did
n’t care if she missed seeing one of them get hammered.

  “Danny’s such a sweetheart,” Ann said.

  “He looks older than thirteen.”

  “Yeah, he’s big for his age.”

  “Kind of like my brothers,” Meg mumbled. “Well, anyway, I need to tell him that…I…think I found his dog.”

  Ann stopped and grabbed Meg’s arm. “Banjo? You found Banjo?”

  So it is this Danny Mack.

  Meg nodded. “That was the name on the tag.”

  “My, my, my,” Ann said. “You found Banjo. We are going to make that boy’s day.”

  Ann hooked her arm through Meg’s. “Let’s go find the man. I want to see the look on his face when we tell him.”

  “Me too,” Meg said.

  52

  Danny had the saddle off Pete and was currying him down. “You did good out there, bud,” Danny whispered. “One more event, and you can go home and tell Angelina and Half-Asleep all about it.”

  Dad stood leaning against the horse trailer, watching Danny. “I think you could shave a couple tenths of a second off your time if you tie your hooey with two wraps ’stead of three.”

  “Maybe. But it might not hold.”

  “And maybe it would.”

  Danny nodded and was about to say he’d give it a try but was stopped cold by the sight of Ann coming his way…with the girl he’d caught staring at him.

  Dad turned to see what he was looking at.

  Ann smiled and waved. “Danny! You’ll never believe this. This is Meg Harris, and she found Banjo!”

  53

  Dad stiffened and glared at Danny, eyes burning. Then he nodded to Meg and Ann. “Ladies.” He touched his hat.

  Ann smiled and introduced herself and Meg.

  Meg shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Mack.”

  “Please. Call me Ray.”

  Danny waited. His gut felt like lead, his face hot.

  “Well,” Dad said, without a glance at Danny, “if you all will excuse me, I think I’ll pick up something to drink. It’s hotter’n a burnt boot.”

  Danny winced and went back to brushing Pete.

  Ann suddenly slapped her hand over her mouth. “Ohhh, Danny, you didn’t tell him, did you? I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  A moment of awkward silence.

  Meg looked from one to the other.

  Ann changed the mood. “You were fabulous out there, Danny. I had no idea you were that good. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “What’s to tell?”

  Danny peeked at the girl, then away.

  “Such modesty,” Ann said. “Well, you were great.”

  “Nothing wrong with second place, I guess.”

  “I don’t know how you picked up that calf and threw it on its side like that. Aren’t they heavy?”

  “Yeah, but you don’t notice it when you’re doing it.”

  Again, Danny glanced at Meg. Their eyes locked.

  “Oh!” Ann said. “I’m so sorry. Meg, this is Danny Mack.”

  Danny gave her a hesitant nod.

  “How’d you lose your dog?” Meg snapped.

  Danny stopped brushing Pete. He stared at the ground.

  Get a grip.

  “He had a tag on him that said Banjo,” Meg added. “Black-and-white dog? Ring a bell?”

  Danny stumbled for something to say. “You…you found Banjo? How…is he?”

  Meg glared at him.

  Danny saw that she knew he was playing dumb.

  “How’d you lose him? Tell me that. I found him out near Camp Sherman. Don’t you live, like, thirty miles away?”

  How could he tell her the truth? She’d think he was a skunk. But if he continued to lie, she’d think he was something worse, and she’d be right.

  “Danny?” Ann said. “Just tell her.”

  Danny let out a long breath and sat on a bale of hay. He took off his hat and held it in his hands. And told her the story.

  “I went right back to look for him the next day. But he was gone. Worst thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

  Ann knelt and put her hand on his wrist. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Danny.”

  “How could you do that?” Meg spat. “You don’t just go out and leave your dog alone in the wild.”

  Danny looked up and said, “It was either that or kill him!”

  Meg’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t walk away. “You could have found him a home. A ton of people would have taken a dog in, ’specially a sweet one like that.”

  “I tried! But no one would take a dog who chases stock. I only had one day. I…tried. So did my brother, Tyrell, and Ricky.”

  Ann said, “Give him a chance, Meg. Danny’s not the kind of person who’d harm any animal.”

  “Course not,” Danny said. “I had to do it…to save his life.”

  Nobody spoke.

  Danny stood. “Where is he?”

  “At home.”

  “Can I see him?”

  Meg squinted, her eyes boring into his. Then, “Okay…but on one condition….You don’t get to take him. Not yet.”

  Danny slapped his hat against his thigh. “I’m not so sure he’d want me to, anyway.”

  54

  Meg felt the sadness in Danny’s voice and in the way he’d tried to explain things.

  “Well,” she said softly, “I’d better go. My family’s here.”

  The crowd set off a sudden earthquake of roaring and stomping in the stands. Danny said, “Maybe we could set up a time for me to come out to your place…if that’s…all right with you.”

  “How about right after the rodeo?” Ann said.

  Meg took her time answering. “Sure…why not?”

  “Perfect!” Ann said. “That okay with you, Danny?”

  He looked down and dug a small trench in the dirt with the heel of his boot, shaking his head. “I’ll ask. But before I go anywhere I’ve got something to square with my dad. I’ll find you later…if I’m still alive.”

  55

  The team-roping event began with a red-hot pair from Llano, Texas. Wham! Bam! Done!

  They’d be hard to beat.

  Danny stood with his hand under Pete’s chin, stroking his cheek on the far side. When their time came, he mounted and rode out into the arena, a half horse-length behind Dad, who had yet to say a word to him.

  The muscles in Danny’s jaw were tight. He’d had back-to-back worst days. Lie after lie. It made his hands shake.

  When they got to the box, they turned the horses toward the arena and backed them in, Danny on Pete to the left of the chute, Dad on Mandingo to the right.

  As Danny built his loop, he glanced at the chute between them. Their steer looked decent. He was thankful for that.

  He jiggled the reins lightly, and Pete backed farther into the box.

  Header and heeler took note of each other, then focused in on what they were doing now and what they were about to do.

  Pete was jacked up and ready, his flank taut. Danny’s hand would tell him when to move. He knew Pete would be screaming to fly out of the box when the gate opened. But he wouldn’t move until Danny gave him the signal.

  Danny took one last quick glance to see if Dad was ready. He would not look at or think about him again. If Dad had a problem, he’d call it out.

  Concentrate. This one last time.

  His team roping days with Dad would crash and burn after this. His lies had killed the trust.

  He had to do well. He owed it to Dad. In all their time together, Dad had never once missed catching both heels. He was 100 percent, and proud of it, though he’d never admit it.

  Danny wasn’t about to mess him up now.

  The steer’s head was not quite f
orward.

  Turn, Danny willed. Face the front of the chute.

  Pete quivered like a drawn bow.

  Danny leaned forward, coiled rope in his left hand, built loop in his right.

  When the steer faced front, Danny nodded.

  The gatekeeper slammed open the gate.

  The steer burst out and raced into the arena.

  Pete jumped ahead, slightly. Danny held until the steer broke the barrier, then flew out after him.

  Mandingo burst out a split second later, Dad leaning ahead, riding off the steer’s right shoulder, hazing him left.

  Danny rode the left hindquarters, about four feet to the side of the steer. He leaned forward with the rope whirling over his head, focusing on the steer’s left horn, where the loop would end up.

  One swing, two.

  He threw.

  It landed perfectly over both horns. He pulled the slack straight back and made his dally around the saddle horn and pulled the steer to the left, trying to make him hop so Dad could get a good shot at his heels.

  Dad threw his loop…caught one foot…wrapped his rope around the saddle horn, and pulled up on Mandingo.

  Danny turned Pete and faced the steer with his rope taut.

  It was over.

  At the signal from the flagger they slacked up and undallied their wrapped ropes. Two wranglers ran out and released the steer.

  The Mack team rode out of the arena at a trot, fans clapping politely.

  A good show, but not good enough.

  The one-heel catch earned them a five-second penalty. They came in second to last, last being a team that had missed the heels altogether.

  Danny felt sick.

  56

  Three-quarters of an hour later, Pete and Mandingo were in the two-horse trailer starting for home with Dad.

  Danny had tried to say how sorry he was for lying, but he’d only gotten two words out before Dad raised his hand. “You’ve got nothing to say that I want to hear.”

  Tyrell kept his mouth shut as he helped load the horses.