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The crowd is filled with a bunch of other familiar faces too. Jennings’ family is there, his four recently married brothers are all there with their wives. I could always sense a bit of jealousy from him when he talked about them, and I do wonder if he intends to stop being the odd man out in the family sooner rather than later.
His cousins, the Roughs, all came over from Home too. That looks like a wild family. Seven kids, their spouses, and some of them have children too. Both the Rowdys and the Roughs value family so much, anyone should be thankful to be adopted into their ranks.
“June Jenkins, you’re up,” the backstage manager calls out to me as I go to climb onto my horse.
I’m not that shaken by what happened to Danny. I’m confident in what I can do, and I’ve done it hundreds of times. My mind is focused on the show, and I’m not going to make any mistakes. Music fills the arena as I ride out, and the crowd erupts. I urge Fillia to start her run, bending her around the tight corners of the course laid out for me.
It’s a rush doing this in front of so many people. I look at my brother in the stands and then at Jennings, both of them giving me such stern approval and among the loudest of those cheering.
I could get used to this bit of stardom. I never wanted to be a worldwide megastar, but I can see what celebrities get out of this sort of thing. And when I’m finished and I run Fillia back toward her stable, I think there is still so much more I can do with my act. Maybe I can teach her to jump over some of the barrels, or knock one of them over in defiance?
The performer's bug has definitely taken hold of me, but my time today is done. The rodeo is a variety show, and there are plenty more acts to come.
I rush over to Jennings, who catches me with an embrace and a kiss. “You did wonderfully out there.”
“Thanks. Gonna be your turn to show me up soon, you know.”
“Oh, I will. I got something special planned.”
“Hopefully it doesn’t involve your spine and a pole. Rolling around two wheelchairs is going to be hard for me.”
“I wouldn’t do that to you, babe. But you’re going to love it all the same.”
He goes over to the bull he’s set to ride and tends to it. It’s a competition, but it’s also showmanship. Jennings’ dance partner is a two-thousand-pound bull.
As the act between us, a skit between a bunch of the rodeo clowns, winds down, Jennings prepares to head out. I look into the stands toward his extended family. Lots of little kids running around, their mothers and fathers trying to catch them. Lots of chatting and laughter.
And the stoic face of Papa Rowdy. He always seems so distant. I’ve known the Rowdys long enough to know the story, and it's a tragedy. I wonder if the families blossoming around him can fill the hole in his heart left by his wife.
The Rodeo’s MC calls out Jennings, who gets onto the bull and rides him out to the dirt. Jennings is always billed as one of the best, and he’s always out to show it. When the bull gets going, he stays steady, and keeps his hat on the entire time. It takes a lot of strength and focus to do what he does, and it’s always so surprising to see him keep at it.
He gets the crowd going, tipping his hat at them, all the while the bull tries its damndest to throw him off. The bull stomps around the arena, and he keeps steady, his muscles tensing against the rope. The bull tries more furiously, and for the first time, Jennings is using two hands to steady himself.
I look on, surprised. He’s usually not that shaken.
The bull charges about, and combines it with a buck. Finally, it succeeds in what it wants to do.
Throw Jennings off.
He flips onto the ground, rolling along the dirt. The bull grunts but leaves him alone, its training kicking in.
The crowd goes silent for a moment, especially after the incident with my brother.
I run into the field, my worry getting the better of me. “Jennings!” I cry.
It took a solid steel pole in order for the bull to do real damage to my brother. A bit of a tumble into the dirt, though?
That’s nothing for Jennings as he pulls himself up and dusts off his hat, waving at the crowd, which roars in approval.
“Just making me worry, aren’t you?” I ask, shaking my head in disbelief.
“Hey, the bull got the better of me. It happens sometimes.”
“And now,” the rodeo MC announces, “our champion bull rider, Jennings Rowdy, would like the microphone for a very special message.”
