here: Bruce found out she’d snuck off with me, told her bosses, and they pulled her from the job. I tell myself that can’t possibly have happened.
There’s some plot to the gunfight — someone’s the Sheriff, someone’s the outlaw, there’s a twist in the middle when a woman comes in and hollers at them to stop — but I’m not paying attention until it’s over and someone’s lying in the street, pretending to be dead.
“All right!” an announcer says, his deep voice booming over the PA. “If y’all could just step into the Gold Strike Amphitheater over here, we’ll be doing the bull selection right now.”
I head over, trying to look casual. Before I know it, Raylan’s fallen in next to me, and he nods. I nod back.
“Who you hoping for?” he asks.
“You know who,” I say.
Raylan laughs.
“Of course you are,” he says. “I’m going light. Got my fingers crossed for Train Robbery. If I can get above a seventy average, I make the finals.”
I don’t need to ride Crash Junction to make the finals, but I want to. He’s the biggest and the baddest, and I want to conquer him. It’s that simple.
“I think you got this in the bag,” I tell Raylan. “Me and you are gonna be sipping whiskey in the high-stakes poker room this time next month.”
He laughs.
“So I can lose all my money the minute I make it?” he asks. “You know what my father always said? ‘Son, the best way to double your money is to fold it in half and put it in your back pocket.’”
“Smart man,” I say.
It’s like the other night never happened. That’s how our friendship goes: sometimes we have to rough each other up a little, but it’s the nature of the beast. Can’t be around someone too long without wanting to do that.
“I ought to listen to him sometimes,” Raylan says, and then Wayne’s on the wooden stage, getting everyone’s attention.
Raylan and I are standing in the back. Up front, they bring out a bulletin board on wheels and a folding tables three boxes with holes cut in the top. The bulletin has the bull riders’ names in a line down the left, with three slots to the right of each.
Pioneer Days isn’t exactly a high-tech enterprise.
“Ladies and gentlemen, now begins the bull selection for Pioneer Days bull riding!” Wayne says, trying to stir up as much enthusiasm as he can. He gets polite applause.
“Well, what do you say we get this started?” he asks rhetorically.
Across the amphitheater, I see Bruce walk in. Mae follows a second later, and my heart does a flip in my chest.
At the very least, she got back to the motel without getting caught. Her eyes rake the crowd, and when they find me, we look at each other for a long moment before she looks away.
“Day one,” Wayne says. “First cowboy is Trevor Anderson, and he’ll be riding...”
Wayne reaches into the cardboard box and swishes his hand around.
“...Muscle Grunt!”
He pins a piece of paper that says MUSCLE GRUNT onto the board next to Trevor’s name and moves on to the next one. I’m a ways down the list, but I pay attention anyway. Someone else gets Crash Junction, but then Wayne calls out my name.
“Jackson Cody,” he says, dramatically swishing his hand in the box again. “...Train Robbery!”
I nod, but on the inside I’m pumped. Train Robbery’s good, and besides, I don’t want to ride Crash Junction first and get all tuckered out for the next two days. I’d rather save the best for last.
On day two, I get Mr. Torque, who’s okay but nothing special. I might have to lean into him some with the spurs to really get his blood up, but that’s okay.
I’m being optimistic, of course. The very best riders get thrown more often than not, and I know it’s more than likely that either Train Robbery or Mr. Torque is gonna get the best of me. I just get up and get back on the next day.
The bull selection for day three feels like it takes about a year. Time crawls at a snail’s pace, and with every
There’s some plot to the gunfight — someone’s the Sheriff, someone’s the outlaw, there’s a twist in the middle when a woman comes in and hollers at them to stop — but I’m not paying attention until it’s over and someone’s lying in the street, pretending to be dead.
“All right!” an announcer says, his deep voice booming over the PA. “If y’all could just step into the Gold Strike Amphitheater over here, we’ll be doing the bull selection right now.”
I head over, trying to look casual. Before I know it, Raylan’s fallen in next to me, and he nods. I nod back.
“Who you hoping for?” he asks.
“You know who,” I say.
Raylan laughs.
“Of course you are,” he says. “I’m going light. Got my fingers crossed for Train Robbery. If I can get above a seventy average, I make the finals.”
I don’t need to ride Crash Junction to make the finals, but I want to. He’s the biggest and the baddest, and I want to conquer him. It’s that simple.
“I think you got this in the bag,” I tell Raylan. “Me and you are gonna be sipping whiskey in the high-stakes poker room this time next month.”
He laughs.
“So I can lose all my money the minute I make it?” he asks. “You know what my father always said? ‘Son, the best way to double your money is to fold it in half and put it in your back pocket.’”
“Smart man,” I say.
It’s like the other night never happened. That’s how our friendship goes: sometimes we have to rough each other up a little, but it’s the nature of the beast. Can’t be around someone too long without wanting to do that.
“I ought to listen to him sometimes,” Raylan says, and then Wayne’s on the wooden stage, getting everyone’s attention.
Raylan and I are standing in the back. Up front, they bring out a bulletin board on wheels and a folding tables three boxes with holes cut in the top. The bulletin has the bull riders’ names in a line down the left, with three slots to the right of each.
Pioneer Days isn’t exactly a high-tech enterprise.
“Ladies and gentlemen, now begins the bull selection for Pioneer Days bull riding!” Wayne says, trying to stir up as much enthusiasm as he can. He gets polite applause.
“Well, what do you say we get this started?” he asks rhetorically.
Across the amphitheater, I see Bruce walk in. Mae follows a second later, and my heart does a flip in my chest.
At the very least, she got back to the motel without getting caught. Her eyes rake the crowd, and when they find me, we look at each other for a long moment before she looks away.
“Day one,” Wayne says. “First cowboy is Trevor Anderson, and he’ll be riding...”
Wayne reaches into the cardboard box and swishes his hand around.
“...Muscle Grunt!”
He pins a piece of paper that says MUSCLE GRUNT onto the board next to Trevor’s name and moves on to the next one. I’m a ways down the list, but I pay attention anyway. Someone else gets Crash Junction, but then Wayne calls out my name.
“Jackson Cody,” he says, dramatically swishing his hand in the box again. “...Train Robbery!”
I nod, but on the inside I’m pumped. Train Robbery’s good, and besides, I don’t want to ride Crash Junction first and get all tuckered out for the next two days. I’d rather save the best for last.
On day two, I get Mr. Torque, who’s okay but nothing special. I might have to lean into him some with the spurs to really get his blood up, but that’s okay.
I’m being optimistic, of course. The very best riders get thrown more often than not, and I know it’s more than likely that either Train Robbery or Mr. Torque is gonna get the best of me. I just get up and get back on the next day.
The bull selection for day three feels like it takes about a year. Time crawls at a snail’s pace, and with every
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