“So, you’ve never been to a rodeo?” Ginger took a bite of her food.
“No, but I saw it once on television.” She hadn’t really understood the entertainment factor of men trying to hang on to a wild horse or mad bull the size of a pickup truck.
“It’s not the same. Oh, you should come. If you’ve never been, you’ll probably have lots of fun. I didn’t mean to make it sound like a headache. Come with us.”
“It’s your family time. I don’t want to intru—” But before Merry Anna could spit out an excuse, Ginger reeled her in with her excitement.
“No, you wouldn’t be. I’d love it if you’d come. Lots of times, Krissy and Liz are there too. Really, you don’t want to miss out. You can ride with me. There’s plenty of room for one more.”
“I’d need to change.” This whole saying yes to new opportunities was taking more time than she’d expected.
“That’s fine. There’s time. You’re staying at the bunkhouse, right?”
“Yes.” Was there anyone in this town that didn’t already know her business?
“I’ll pick you up there.”
Merry Anna had changed into jeans and a long-sleeved blouse. This was becoming her more-than-often look. She was goingto have to break down and buy some more appropriate clothes. She felt like she was in costume with the blingy western belt she’d bought last week. It had been an impulse purchase and a little bright for her normal taste, but then this whole rodeo scene wasn’t her normal either.
The ride over to the arena was mind numbing. Ginger’s kids were still hyped up from sports practice and probably a sugary drink, too, by the sounds of it. If Merry Anna hadn’t been so nosy, she probably could’ve just zoned out, but it fascinated her how animated the children were about every little thing.
When they got to the arena, all worry about her snazzy new belt fell away. She was about as underdone as a girl could be. All the other women were decked out in western wear, from the hats on their heads to the boots on their feet, and the amount of rhinestones, conchos, and fringe had to exceed some kind of limit.
Ginger’s husband, Roger, explained that it was bull riding tonight and mutton busting for the kids but that sometimes they had other rodeo events too.
Merry Anna spotted Adam across the way, wearing a royal blue western shirt and chaps with shiny silver conchos and long fringe. It was strange to see him dressed in all that gear. It was like watching an actor play a part.
The noise level rose the closer it got to starting time. Merry Anna, Ginger, and the kids found their seats in the bleachers just before the announcer got things rolling.
The rodeo started with a prayer and the national anthem. She’d never felt so proud to be an American as she did at that moment. All eyes were on the flag, all hands were on hearts, and every single cowboy hat was lowered in honor until the very last note.
It didn’t take but a minute for the first bull rider to be announced and the first chute gate to clang open. Music filled the arena as a cowboy flopped like a rag doll astride a two-thousand-pound huffing beast. The bull spun and jumped, and with every move, the cowboy threw his arm in the air as if he were reaching for something.
Would those bulls be quite so mean if they heard some soothing classical music instead of that loud, headbanging rock and roll? That would be an interesting study.
Her experiment would have to happen on another bull, because in less than five seconds, the cowboy had been tossed in the air and had landed in a puff of dirt. The bullfighters dodged the animal, trying to distract it until the cowboy could scramble to the side of the arena and out of harm’s way.
Merry Anna sucked in air, thankful the young man had escaped injury. Her heart pounded as hard as if she’d been out there running alongside them.
“No score, and this cowboy is going home with nothing but your applause tonight,” came the announcement over the loudspeaker, “so give him all you got.” The crowd clapped and shouted for him.
She stood there clapping, when Ginger leaned over. “If they stay on for the whole eight seconds, they get a score. That’s what every cowboy is holding on for. Otherwise, they get nothing but this.” She exaggerated her clapping. “Kind of all or nothing.”
Merry Anna noticed the spurs on the rider’s boots. “They wear spurs? I thought that was just an Old West thing and mostly for the jingling effect as the cowboy entered the quiet saloon in a one-horse town.”
“Oh, they use them too,” Ginger said with a nod.
The announcer introduced the next rider. “In chutenumber two, poised to take the whole PBR championship if things keep going his way, local rodeo star Adam Locklear.”
Everyone cheered, and she scanned the crowd. They were serious fans. Some even wore shirts with Adam’s face on them.
He was wearing a heavy vest over his blue shirt now. He stepped over the chute, and a group of bull riders helped him get set on his bull. He wiggled down with his hand in front of him, and one of the other guys pulled the rope so tight that Merry Anna wondered how he’d ever get loose from the back of that bull.
She held her breath. The music playing was more like a jaunty countdown. Her nerves tingled, making her scooch to the edge of her seat, although part of her didn’t even want to watch.
The announcer’s booming drawl filled the arena. “While Adam gets set, show him his big hometown following tonight!”
The arena erupted, cheers rolling through the air.
