“Well,” Jake said thoughtfully, “ya see, this fella Caleb Harrison is from a little old town called Tell, Texas.”
“Where the hell is that?” asked Willie, rolling the window back up. “I thought you were going to tell me how you are better than everybody else, not some old lame dude named Caleb Harrison nobody ever heard of before.”
“Damn it, Willie.” Jake shook his head and sighed. “You know why God gave you two ears and one mouth?” Willie just shrugged so Jake continued, “It’s ’cause you’re supposed to listen twice as much as you talk.”
“Very funny.” Willie didn’t look amused.
“Listen, you asked me how I can beat you and all those other fellas,” Jake said, glancing over at his friend, “and I’m going to answer it best I can, but if you want to hear what the answer is, then shut the hell up. Otherwise, we need to talk about something else. Got it?”
“Yeah, sure thing,” Willie apologized. “Sorry, go ahead. I’ll listen.”
“All right, then.” Jake focused on the road in front of them. “You see, Caleb Harrison was the first tie-down roper to get out of the saddle on the right side of the horse.”
“You mean, in the old days, every roper in the country got off his horse on the left side?” asked Willie, astounded.
“Yep.” Jake nodded. “Caleb Harrison changed things. After he came along, nobody got off on the left side again. He shaved a half second, sometimes more, off his times just ’cause he didn’t have to go under the rope when he was off his horse running up to the calf.”
“Okay,” said Willie, “but everybody does that now. How does that make you better?”
Jake laughed. “Getting off the horse on the right side doesn’t make me better. It’s the idea of whenever a particular roper does something better than I do, even if it’s a tiny little thing, I put it into my little bag of tricks and use it.”
“I do, too,” said Willie, lifting his white straw hat off with one hand and scratching the top of his head with the other. He looked at Jake as he put his hat back on and added, “But I don’t seem to be kicking everybody’s ass every weekend like you do. So what else is there that you’re not telling me?”
Jake looked at his friend and answered, “You know, Willie, we’ve been on the road together a while now, and you’re just now getting around to asking me why I’m always in the money and you’re not.” He shook his head in wonder as he added, “You know, if I was you, I would’ve asked that question about a year and a half ago.”
For the next couple of minutes, the cab of the truck was silent as Willie stared out the side window.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” said Jake as he reached over and gently pushed Willie’s shoulder. “I know that sounded an awful lot like I was calling you a dumb ass. I didn’t mean it that way.”
“How did you mean it?” asked Willie, turning back to look at Jake.
“I said it,” started Jake, “because the one thing…the one advantage I have out there is I watch and listen better than anyone else. I’ve been doing it all my life. I used to watch Olin Young; he could put the first wrap on faster than anyone my dad and I ever saw. Don McLaughlin’s second wrap was the best. I patterned my wraps after those two guys. Ronnye Sewalt got his hands in the air after he got his hooey on faster than anyone. We copied that, too. Then there’s Junior Garrison and Gary Ledford—they both had a unique way of reaching for the calf after they flanked it. My dad taught me how to pop my rope up in the air while I’m getting off the horse. I was fortunate to be able to learn from a lot of different guys, just by watching.”
“So you don’t just pay attention to the guys you’re up against,” said Willie in an “aha” moment. “You been studying calf ropers for years.”
“Ever since I was old enough to walk,” said Jake with a wink. He smiled as he added, “’Course, there’s other things, too. I’m a hell of a rider. I got lucky getting ahold of Chief ’cause he’s a hell of a horse, and I can loop a rope around the legs of a fly. Plus, I’m probably the best-looking son of a bitch on the planet and I can fuck for hours at a time.”
“Yeah, and I’m the damned president of the United States,” answered Willie with disgust.
“You could be if you wanted it bad enough,” said Jake.
“I don’t want to be the fucking president!” Willie exclaimed, his cheeks reddening.
“See, that’s something else right there,” said Jake as he raised his forefinger at Willie and shot him with his thumb. “You could do something about being a hot-head, too.”
“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” asked Willie. “Besides, I don’t have a temper.”
Jake started laughing as he answered. “What the hell, Willie? How many times have I saved your ass after you got some swamp rat redneck pissed off at you at a run-down bar, huh? How many?”
Willie answered a bit more softly, “A few.”
“A few, my ass,” Jake snorted. “A lot would be more like it.” He shook his head before adding, “Why is it a big motherfucker like you is always wanting to fight? Huh? Hell, my idea of winning a brawl is to buy a drink for everybody. Yours is to see if you can knock the other guy out which, by the way, hardly ever happens.”
Willie laughed as he said, “Sometimes it does.”
“Well, what the fuck do you want to be?” answered Jake, the smile gone from his face, “a boxer…or bouncer…or a world class roper?”
Willie muttered, “I want to be a world champion calf roper.”
“I do, too,” Jake said, “I just want it badder than you. That’s all.” He poked his thumb at his chest as he added, “Jake O’Brien is going to go down as the best tie-down roper there ever was.” He let out a deep breath, then finished by saying, “That’s what makes me win because that’s how I want to be remembered. How about you, Willie?”
“That right there…that belief…gives you the edge? That’s it?” Willie gave him a wide-eyed stare.
Jake shrugged his shoulders as he answered, “Yeah…I guess so.”
Willie smiled and playfully punched his friend in the shoulder. “Thanks, Jake, I appreciate it. You watch; I’m going to start doing a lot better.”
“You better,” Jake laughed. “You’re going to need to make some money pretty quick or you’ll be thumbing it down the road before you know it.”
“Yeah, right, you wouldn’t do that to me ’cause I wouldn’t do it to you. We’re partners. And besides, I ain’t busted—close, but least not yet, anyways,” said Willie. “And I think after this little talk, my money’s going to start getting a lot better.”
“Well, I’ll have to get in your way if it starts getting too good,” Jake warned, scowling. “The best roper in history ain’t going to be named Willie Butler.”
“We might have to see about that,” Willie said, chuckling.
Jake was dead serious when he looked at his friend and answered, “No, we won’t.”
An awkward silence took over the truck cab for the next several minutes. Then Jake glanced in his side mirror and said, “Wow, lookie here what’s coming up behind us.”
Willie turned in his seat, but couldn’t see the red sports car because the horse trailer they were pulling blocked his view. “What is it?” he asked. “Probably some hot-looking chick.”
“Ding, ding, ding,” proclaimed Jake. “We have a winner. Willie, you gotta see this.”
Willie slid over in his seat to get a better look out of the driver’s side mirror to see the red Mercedes 450 SL convertible coming up alongside the truck as the driver attempted to pass. The female driver had the top down, and her long blonde hair flowed back over her shoulders in the early morning breeze. Jake rolled his window down and waved her to slow down. When she did, Jake took his hat off, leaned out the window and, putting on his charming best self, yelled at the top of his lungs, “Where you going, pretty lady?”
The young woman behind the wheel responded in the same tone of voice, adding a wave and a smile, “Probably
not where you’re headed. Where are you two boys off to?”
Jake’s truck and trailer swerved back and forth across the center line because his head was out the window and his undivided attention was focused on the red Mercedes with the hot blonde across from him. “Amarillo! You like rodeo?” he yelled, then added with a grin, “and rodeo cowboys?”
“Maybe,” she shouted, and he wondered at how she could yell that loud and still retain her ladylike side. “You boys rope?”
“Little lady,” he bellowed, pointing at his chest with his forefinger, “it’s your lucky day. You happen to be looking at the greatest roper there ever was.”
“That’s a mighty small rig you’re driving to be the best there ever was,” said the woman in a doubting tone.
“Well, you listen up.” Jake smiled and pointed his finger at her. “My name is Jake O’Brien. Unless you live in a cave and haven’t heard of me already, you’re going to hear about me real soon. Write it down.”
“Jake O’Brien, got it.” She smiled a huge smile. “I gotta run, though. You boys be careful and good luck.” She then held up her left hand to display a sizable diamond ring on her finger, and mouthed the word, “Sorry.” She stepped on the gas, darting back into the northbound lane directly in front of Jake’s truck just in the nick of time to avoid an oncoming car, whose driver leaned on his horn and flipped her off.
“Damn, that was one fine-looking girl!” said Willie as he moved back over to his side of the cab.
“You got that right.” Jake focused his attention on the red convertible ahead that was speeding out of sight. “What do you think she’s doing? A hundred?”
“At least!” exclaimed Willie, reaching into the glovebox. “But, hey, what do you say I roll up another one of these?” A minute later, he held a joint up for Jake to see.
“Sounds good to me.” Jake shook his head and added, “Whew, that was one fine girl. Just my luck she’s either engaged or married.”
“And suddenly you’re disappointed you didn’t pick up a beautiful, married blonde driving an expensive red Mercedes out in the middle of nowhere on a highway no less?” Willie struck a match to light his joint.
Jake paused, bit his lip for a moment, then nodded as he answered, “Why not?” He sighed before adding, “But, as a matter of fact, yeah, I am disappointed. I can’t put my finger on it, but there was something special about that one. Something weird, like I already know her from somewhere.”
“Come on, Jake, get real.” Willie took a toke from the joint. “What makes you think you’d have any chance with a rich, pretty girl like that?”
Jake reached over to grab the joint Willie handed over and answered with a grin, “’Cause I’m the best-looking son of a bitch on the planet and I can fuck for hours.” He took a long drag off the joint, coughing twice as he tried to keep the smoke in his lungs. Finally, he exhaled, laughing, “Did I mention that?”
“Yeah, you did, once or twice,” said Willie with a chuckle. “But, even if she pulled over and invited you to a fancy hotel room right now, my bet is you wouldn’t even be able to get it up after spending last night with those two hookers.”
Jake shrugged, then said with a grin, “Well, you might have a point there. But, if you can’t cut the mustard, you might as well lick the jar.”
* * *
Dani Harrison looked in the rearview mirror of her Mercedes convertible and smiled. As she watched the truck recede into the distance, the thought occurred to her to pull over to the side of the road, put her hazard lights on and wait for the cowboys to pull up behind her. Jake O’Brien wasn’t the most handsome man she had ever met, but he had a soft smile that made her think of simpler times, which brought back a flood of childhood memories. The long forgotten dreams of living the rodeo life bubbled to the surface again as she put her fingers on the turn signal and paused.
It just so happened that Dani had heard of Jake O’Brien. He was rookie of the year and won the world tie-down roping championship the year before and, deep down, she wanted to meet him because anyone who knew anything about the sport had heard this young man from Oklahoma was taking the roping world by storm. She hadn’t been to a professional rodeo in quite some time, but she never quit following the sport, even though the man she was engaged to thought rodeo cowboys were completely out of their minds for spending their lives collecting broken bones, along with meager paychecks.
Dani bit her lower lip and thought about what might happen if she pulled over. Suddenly, it was as if the three fates were whispering in her ear, promising Dani that the adventures she was truly destined to experience lay in a truck behind her with a man she didn’t even know. She sighed as she thought about how her life with Brandon was now filled with lavish cocktail parties, trips around the world, and how they had the ability to purchase anything they wanted whenever they wanted it, but there was still a big part of her that longed for the rodeo life. The smell of manure, the cold beer, the thrill of the crowd, the excitement of looking up to the clock when a roper you were pulling for finished a good run and feeling the utter disappointment of watching that same cowboy’s rope sail over the head of a darting calf caused a stir in her she hadn’t felt in years.
She paused for what seemed like forever, then sighed. Shaking her head, she removed her hand from the turn signal and floored the gas pedal. She kept her eyes on the truck in her rearview mirror as long as she could before it completely vanished in the distance, and five miles passed before Dani realized she was traveling more than a hundred miles per hour.
It would be another month before she quit thinking about how her life would have changed if she had only pulled her car off to the side of the road that day to meet Jake O’Brien.
* * *
Dodge City, Kansas several months later
Jake O’Brien raised both fists into the hot, late afternoon air and yelled “Yeah!” before he hurried over to Chief, climbed in the saddle, and waited six seconds for his time to become official. A wide grin crossed his face as he yanked his straw Stetson off and waved it. He stood up in his stirrups and bowed a “thank you” to the crowd for its thunderous applause. The announcer’s voice boomed over the loud speaker. “How about that, ladies and gentlemen! Jake O’Briennnn!”
The announcer waited for the noise to quiet down before continuing. “We have a time of 8.0. That’s a helluva good run! We have four more ropers to go, but it looks like O’Brien is going to be mighty, mighty tough to beat.”
Jake waved at the people in the stands one more time as he instructed his horse to take a few steps toward the calf on the ground, which loosened the tension on the rope and allowed a volunteer to run out and untie the piggin string binding the calf’s three legs. The calf jumped to its feet and took off toward the far end of the arena, followed by the pick-up men. Jake coiled up his rope and wrapped it around his left hand.
The announcer’s voice came back over the mic. “Let’s hear it one more time for Jake O’Brien!” The crowd went wild again as Jake trotted his jet-black horse once around the open-air arena. He held his hat up in the air before riding out the exit gate as the cheering from the outdoor grandstand subsided. He hopped off Chief with a huge grin, then started returning the numerous congratulatory handshakes from everyone around him.
“Nice run, Jake,” said one roper.
“Yeah. When are you going to let some of us win a little money?” asked another.
Jake shook his head, grinning, “Thanks a lot, boys. I just got lucky; that’s all.”
Johnny Hudson, who had been third before Jake’s run and was now fourth and out of the money, said, “Yeah, sure you did.” Without a reason to stay any longer, he turned to walk out of the arena, adding, “I don’t think luck had anything to do with that. That was impressive.”
Jake led Chief over to a nearby livestock pen where he tied the reins to the top rail. He took a deep breath, then walked back to the arena where he could watch the last contestants. He wiped the sweat off his brow as he shoul
dered his way in between a couple of cowboys, resting his forearms on the top rail to watch the next roper take his turn in the box. Every one of the last four were good enough to have a chance at day money, but only the last rider had a chance at taking the aggregate time and the championship buckle that came with it.
Bobby Hunter followed Jake, but he could only muster a time of 11.2. Even though he had his rope around the calf’s neck and was off his horse in impressive fashion, the crowd groaned when he wasted three seconds trying to get the calf off its feet and onto its side. Monte Clark followed, but had no time when his rope sailed just a hair too far right and bounced off the calf’s head. Bucky Bradford was next, but he wasted precious time before he managed to get his rope around the calf’s head and could do no better than 10.4.
The last rider was Willie Butler. “Go get ’em, Willie,” yelled Jake, watching his friend put his piggin string between his teeth and get his horse set in the box. Even though Jake was outwardly showing support for his friend, Willie was the one rider who had a chance to beat him and Jake was a little nervous about it. Jake’s first two runs were timed at 9.1 and 8.4, which brought his total to 25.5. Willie’s first two were 8.9 and 8.8, which meant he would have to pull off a 7.7 to win the gold buckle. A tall order indeed, not only because it was something Willie had never done before as a professional, but today was also filled with the pressure of a last run in a fairly major rodeo event. An uneasy feeling rumbled around in the pit of Jake’s stomach as he waited for Willie to take his turn.
Over the course of the last six weeks, from San Antonio, Austin, Amarillo, Tulsa, Topeka, and now here in Dodge City, Jake had seen his friend blossom into a serious competitor. Jake knew he was destined to be better than Willie, and everybody else for that matter, but there had been an obvious change in the way Willie went about his business ever since they had the conversation in the truck just outside Fort Worth. He had quit drinking, was the first person at the arena in the mornings, talked to and got tips from everyone he could, was the last to leave at the end of the day and, even though he had yet to win an event, he had quickly moved up into the money at almost every rodeo since.
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