“What the hell?” yelled Jake.
The announcer spoke. “Awwww…that’s a tough break, ladies and gentlemen! Looks like Jake O’Brien got a ‘cowboy speeding ticket.’ He broke the barrier just a shade too quick and has been assessed a ten-second penalty.”
The announcer’s sidekick chimed in as everyone in the arena turned to look at the replay being shown on a huge projector screen, “Yeah, you can see the flag drop right there as his horse hit the rope. Jake let his horse getta little ahead of himself, and he crosses the barrier just before that calf has a chance to clear the chute. That’s a darn shame.”
Jake shook his head in disgust as he walked back to Chief and climbed on. Six seconds later, the time was official and he let his horse move forward to loosen the rope. Outwardly, it appeared Jake was taking his poor time in stride, but his mind was racing. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been assessed a penalty for breaking the barrier. When he was a kid, Jake’s father had told him over and over, if he planned on making a living as a roper, he’d better make damned sure never to hit the rope before the calf cleared. Otherwise, every time he did it, he might as well throw a fistful of hundred dollar bills out the window of his truck because breaking the barrier was the one thing that was guaranteed to let the other ropers beat him. Jake rode Chief out of the arena into the staging area and dismounted.
“That’s a damned shame.” Willie walked up. “I never seen you do that before.”
“There’s a first time for everything.” Jake dropped to a knee and put his coiled rope and piggin string neatly in his can. He took his gloves off, put them in, and secured the round metal lid before turning around and adding, “Tell you what, Willie, I’ve been thinking. I was a little hard on you last week after you won. So why don’t you go out there, kick some ass and, afterward, we’ll go find us a bar to hang out in for a few hours. A bar with some pretty women in it. What do you say?”
Willie’s face lit up as he climbed into his saddle. “That sounds like a plan, Jake. I’m in…and I’ll buy. God knows it’s my turn.” His smile was still ear to ear as he nudged his horse in the sides and rode over to take his place in the box. Just before Willie and Buck bolted out of the box, Willie glanced at Jake, nodded his head and winked.
To everyone else, it looked as though Willie was just being friendly or asking for good luck but, to Jake, it appeared Willie was telling him he was about to school him on how championship roping was done. The sight made his blood boil. To Jake, it seemed like bad luck was the only luck he had, and he knew he was willing to try just about anything to turn things around. What that anything might be he didn’t know just yet, but he was madder than a hornet when the announcer came over the PA and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, how about that! Looks like Willie Butler has a Yuma Arizona County Fair and Rodeo new record tie-down roping time of 7.7 seconds!”
Jake shook his head and sighed, watching Willie wave at the cheering crowd. Something had to change quick. Maybe, just maybe, when they were out drinking later tonight, he could figure out a way to turn the tide.
“Hey, mister…Mister O’Brien,” came a voice behind him. Jake turned to see a freckle-faced kid in a button-down western shirt, well-worn boots and faded jeans, waving a pen and a brand-new ball cap through the fence, squinting in the bright afternoon sun no more than ten feet away. “Can I get your autograph? Please, sir? Can you sign my hat?”
The last thing Jake wanted to do was talk to anyone, especially a pain-in-the-ass kid, but he took a deep breath, put his best face on, and smiled engagingly. He strolled over, grabbed the pen and hat, then glanced at the boy’s parents, both dressed in western wear that had more than a few miles on it. He asked, “You folks enjoying the rodeo?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. O’Brien,” replied the stocky brunette woman, smiling back at him.
Jake could see the boy and his parents didn’t have the proper badges to be in the fenced area and asked, “Makes no difference to me, but how’d you folks get down here? Looks like y’all need a better pass to be down here asking for autographs.”
The boy’s father looked embarrassed. “Well, Mr. O’Brien, my wife and I couldn’t afford the expensive tickets, so I gave the guy at the gate a ten-dollar bill so we could slip over here for a minute and talk to you.”
Jake glanced at the volunteer working the gate twenty feet away, who nodded at him slightly. The boy’s father continued, “My son spent most of the last six months looking forward to this moment right here. He’s been scratching off the days on the calendar just so he can stand here to get your signature. You’re his hero.”
Jake looked at the boy before he signed the cap and asked, “Is that right, son?”
“You bet it is!” said the boy. “There’s never been another roper like you!”
“That’s a nice thing to say,” said Jake. “What’s your name?”
“Adam…Adam Torres,” the boy answered enthusiastically.
“How old are you?” Jake asked.
“Eight,” Adam told him.
Jake looked at the emblem sewn onto the crown of the cap, which read “Yuma Arizona County Fair and Rodeo 1978” in bold red letters, then signed his name across the white visor as he asked, “You gonna grow up to be a rodeo cowboy?”
“Yes, sir,” said Adam, “I’m going to grow up and be just as good as you…maybe even better.”
“You think so, huh?” Jake chuckled.
“I’m sorry about that, Mr. O’Brien,” said the boy’s father. “He didn’t mean nothing by that. I gotta say, though, all he ever wants to do is practice roping. He’s been doing it every day ever since he was old enough to get his hands up in the air. He’ll rope anything, fence posts, cats, rabbits. Hell, the dog won’t even go outside if he knows Adam’s on his horse. Soon, I’ll have to build him some kind of arena so he can start practicing on some real calves.”
“What’s your horse’s name?” asked Jake.
“Buckshot.” Adam puffed out his chest with pride.
“Well, Adam, you and Buckshot keep it up.” Jake handed the cap and pen back. “Practicing is what it takes to make it out here. Not only do you have to practice every day, but you gotta practice harder and better than anyone else.”
Adam glanced at the signature on his cap before he looked up at Jake and asked, “Mister, can you please sign on here that you’re Jake ‘The Snake’ O’Brien?”
“Jake ‘The Snake’ O’Brien?” asked Jake. “I like that,” he added.
“Yes, sir,” answered Adam’s mother proudly. “That’s what he calls you. He’s covered the walls of his room with every poster ever made of you. He’s been calling you that for the last year or so.”
“Well, Jake ‘The Snake’ O’Brien it is, then,” said Jake, taking the cap and pen from Adam. He looked at the cap before adding, “Looks like we’re out of space on this hat, son. I signed my name a bit too big the first time.”
A look of disappointment came over Adam’s face as Jake handed his hat and pen back. Adam looked up at his dad and asked, “Can we get another hat he can autograph?”
The expression on their faces made it clear they didn’t have the money to buy another cap. Adam’s father answered, “You know, that hat you got in your hands is going to have to be good enough.” He got down on one knee so he could look his son level in the eyes before adding, “Don’t be disappointed, son. You have Jake O’Brien’s autograph now. We’ll put that cap up on the shelf in your room; it’ll be your first real trophy.” He stood and gazed at Jake. “And besides, I think Mister O’Brien has done enough.”
Adam looked at his father and said, “Okay, Dad. That’s all right.” He turned to Jake, stuck out his hand, and added, “Mister O’Brien, thank you very much. I won’t be able to be here tomorrow, but you’ll do better in the next round. I just know it.”
“Thank you, young man.” Jake returned Adam’s handshake, man to man. He smiled and added, “But, you know, it’s not your fault I didn’t sign that cap of yours
right. It’s mine. So let me ask you, you got a best friend that likes rodeo as much as you?”
Adam’s face lit up. “Sure do. His name is Billy. Billy Hancock. He sure is gonna wish he was me when he sees this hat.”
“Well, I’ll tell you what I want you to do,” said Jake, smiling over Adam’s head at his parents. “I want you to give that hat there to your friend Billy. Okay?”
Adam glanced back and forth at his parents, then back at Jake. “But, Mister O’Brien, I came all this way. I can’t do that. I don’t have anything else you can sign.”
“I’m asking you to give that cap to your best friend,” repeated Jake. “You think he’ll like that?”
“Of course he would,” said Adam. “Who wouldn’t?”
“Will you do it, then?” asked Jake. “For me?”
Adam took a deep breath and looked long and hard at the hat he gripped tightly in his hands before turning his attention to Jake. “Sure, Mister O’Brien. For you, I will. I’ll do it soon as we get back home today.”
“Good,” said Jake. He took off his straw Stetson, got down on his knee, and held out his right hand. “You want to give me that pen back?”
Adam handed the pen back and watched as Jake put his cowboy hat on his right knee and signed the front brim, “To Adam—Always be the best you can be. Jake ‘The Snake’ O’Brien!’
Jake stood and handed the hat over the fence to the outstretched arms of Adam, who beamed from ear to ear.
“Thank you. Thank you,” said Adam with glee.
“Wow, would you look at that!” said Adam’s father. He reached over the fence to shake Jake’s hand. “Thank you so much. You didn’t have to do that.”
“Don’t mention it,” said Jake with a smile. “I got a few more hats in the truck.” All three adults took a minute to savor the sheer joy on Adam’s face as he looked in awe at the Stetson as if it were the crown jewels of England.
Jake looked at Adam’s parents and asked, “You folks live here in Yuma?”
“No, sir,” answered Adam’s mother. “We have a place outside Westmoreland, over in California. It’s about an hour and a half away.”
“You think you can stay and watch the show the next two days?” asked Jake. “I can leave three tickets each day…good ones…for y’all over at will call.”
“Can we? Can we?” begged Adam as he clutched his new hat.
“No, son,” answered his father soberly. “You know I put off doing a few things at the farm so we could be here today. We got some hard work to do tomorrow.”
Adam’s excited expression disappeared like a puff of smoke caught on the wind with his father’s remarks, but hope filled his eyes just as quickly as Jake countered, “What about Sunday? Can y’all make it then?”
Adam looked as if he was watching a tennis match as he followed the conversation that followed between his dad and Jake.
His father mulled the idea over a bit before answering, “You don’t have to do that for us. That’s too much.”
“It would be my pleasure.”
Adam’s dad scratched his chin. “Well, what time does this thing start?”
“Noon. The tie-down ropers go off first; we’ll start about 12:15.” Jake smiled.
“That’s cutting it mighty close. We have church at ten.”
Jake gave him a hard look. “You could still make it here on time, couldn’t you?”
“Depends on our preacher. He gets a little long in the throat when it comes to Sunday sermons.” Adam’s dad chuckled.
Jake lifted his chin. “Yeah, I know the type. You think he likes rodeo?”
“Of course. Who doesn’t?”
“Tell you what, then,” said Jake, “how about I leave him a ticket, too?. That’ll make sure you folks get out of that prayer factory in plenty of time. Never met a preacher who didn’t wrap up a sermon…” he snapped his fingers, “that quick when he thought the Good Lord had a hand in giving him something better to do. Maybe a front row ticket to this here rodeo will do it.” Jake looked at Adam’s parents with a smile. “What do you say?”
Adam’s parents talked it over and agreed to be back in two days’ time. His father reached over the fence to shake Jake’s outstretched hand. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you very much.”
“No big deal. I’ll leave the tickets under Adam’s name.” Jake turned to grab Chief’s reins and combed his short, sandy blond hair back with his right hand. He pointed to Adam. “Make sure you practice every day, young man. Remember, the most important rule you can ever learn is this: the only thing keeping you from becoming the best at whatever you want to do in life…is yourself.”
“That’s really good advice; you remember that,” said Adam’s mother, gently rubbing the top of the boy’s head.
“I will, Momma,” said Adam. He took his eyes off his new hat for a moment, turned his attention to Jake, and added admiringly, “Thank you so much, sir…and I’ll be here rooting for you on Sunday.”
“Good, see you then.” Jake waved goodbye. He watched the family make their way out of the staging area. He added, “You folks have a good day,” just before the family was swallowed by the crowd as they headed back to the fairgrounds. He grabbed Chief’s reins and led him away.
“Jake, hold up,” came Willie’s voice. “Did you see my run? I aced it!”
“Yeah, congratulations.” Jake’s mind instantly shifted from Adam and his family to the resentful feelings he harbored against Willie. He managed to fake a smile as he added, “I’m startin’ to think you’re getting the hang of this.”
“Me, too,” Willie answered excitedly. “Somebody’s gonna have to pull a hell of a rabbit out of their hat if they plan on beating that time.”
“I suppose you’re right…yep, I suppose you’re right.” Jake turned to lead his horse back over to his stall.
“Where’s your hat?” asked Willie from his saddle.
Jake pointed at the crowd and answered, “Over there.”
“What the…” Willie watched Jake walk away. “Hey!” he added, “Gimmie ten minutes, then I’ll meet you in the stalls.”
Jake held his left hand in the air in a lazy wave to let Willie know he understood. He passed through the women barrel racers who were due up after the tie-down event. Ordinarily, Jake would stop to see if any of the women gave him an inviting glance, but not today. His mind was occupied with other things. He had much bigger fish to fry. While he was still only halfway around the grandstands on his way to the livestock barn, a grin appeared on his face, and he turned to rub Chief behind the ears. He told his horse, “You know what…that cocky son of a bitch…I got his fucking rabbit.” He completed the trek to the livestock barn, whistling a tune the rest of the way.
* * *
“How’d you hear about this place?” asked Willie as he stepped out of the truck.
“One of the boys told me about it,” answered Jake as he closed the driver’s side door behind him. “Said prime time here was as good as any.”
“Prime time meaning…best time to get laid, right?” asked Willie. He paused to look at his reflection staring back from the large trailer mirror hanging off the side of the truck.
“Is there another definition to that phrase I don’t know about?” Jake asked with a chuckle. He tugged both ends of his collar to make sure it stood up straight, pulled the brim of his black Resistal felt hat down a bit closer to his eyes, then flipped the underside of the brim with his right forefinger as he said, “Jake O’Brien, you good-looking son of a bitch, don’t you ever die.”
“Damn, Jake, where do you come up with that shit?” Willie asked as he came around the front of the truck.
“I don’t know. Some people say it’s a gift.” Jake shrugged and grinned. He patted Willie on the shoulder as they wove through the parking lot and added with a laugh, “Come on, boy. If there’s any women in here that even know the slightest damned thing about rodeo, they’ll be waking up in the morning with a warm feeling inside and huge grins
on their faces.” He elbowed Willie in the side as he finished, “Least mine will.”
“Hey.” Willie gently shoved Jake away with his left hand, “You can go on all you want about how you’re such a good lay, but I bet you I’m better.”
Jake looked at Willie as if he was trying to sell him the London Bridge as he said, “You think so?”
“Yeah, I do,” answered Willie quickly. “As a matter of fact, one of these days, I’m going to find a good-looking buckle bunny you’ve tossed aside…”
“They’ve all been good-looking,” Jake interrupted.
“Yeah, that’s true, far as I know, anyway,” Willie laughed. “But, my point is, I’ll give her the chance to know what it’s really like to get done right…Willie Butler right.”
“Son of a bitch, this is getting deep.” Jake laughed as they reached the front door of The Yuma Landing Bar and Grill.
“No, really.” Willie paused at the door and held out his hand. “I’ll bet you a hundred dollars right now I can fuck better…and longer…than you. What do you say?” There was a wide grin on his face as he finished, “We’ll let the girls decide.”
Jake did his best to hide the fact that he was fuming. It was one thing to listen to Willie go on about how everyone was going to need magic to beat him at calf roping, but now he wanted to prove to Jake he could fuck better, too. This had to stop. Jake wanted to put a finger in Willie’s face and say, “Look, motherfucker, one way or another, I’m gonna make sure all your high-flying, pompous bullshit comes down in flames.” Instead, he took a deep breath and calmly said, “On one condition.”
“What’s that?” asked Willie.
“You can’t follow me in there and drink a fucking Coke,” answered Jake. “We’re gonna look like a couple of pussies if you do, and any world champion cowboy trying to get laid don’t come across as a pussy…ever.”
Willie thought it over for a second and rubbed his chin before saying, “You got a point there. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to go back to drinking for one night.”
Roped & Tied Page 9
