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.