Apparently this Jackpot is void of the high-tech announcements and timing devices associated with the rodeo.
“Leer’s here.” I hear them say, but I never take my eyes off the arena, too afraid to miss him.
“Oh, well this thing is tied up. What’s he doing home this summer anyway? I would have figured he’d be on the road,” the guy farthest from me says.
“I heard Old Man Martin practically begged him to come home. He needed help with the ranch since his stroke. Lord knows he could be winning a lot more money on the road.”
Another steer is released and two men on horses chase him. The cowboy dives off his horse and lands behind the steer, who continues to run right out the opposite gate in the fence. The cowboy’s slow to get up and my dread at Jason’s run quadruples. The other cowboy who rode with him gets off his horse and lends a hand to pull him up. He waves to the fence and a collective sigh is let out. I take another beer out of the cooler and drink it too fast.
I put the empty can back in the cooler as I see Jason on a horse in the gate. He’s saying something to Ollie and then he’s set. He nods and the gate opens and the steer runs. Jason follows from behind, catches him, dives and wrestles him to the ground.
“Holy! What time was that?” I hear, and release my breath.
“I got it at 4.8. That boy is quick.” I’m smiling, but my stomach is still knotted.
* * *
After ten minutes, Jason emerges from the other side of the fence. There are still wrestlers competing, but most of the crowd are already congratulating him. He stops to speak to a few. I’ve never seen anyone more comfortable with their surroundings. He runs this place. By the time he gets to me I’m three beers in the hole. His proximity calms me and the knots release.
“I have so many questions.”
“About bulldogging or something else?” Jason opens the cooler and pauses at the sight of the empty cans. He opens a beer and replaces the lid.
“Steer wrestling, although I would love to know what bulldogging is. I don’t understand what’s happening. It goes too fast.”
“Bulldogging is steer wrestling.”
“Helps. What’s the point of Ollie?” Jason laughs at this.
“He’s my hazer. He rides to direct the steer. He makes it possible for me to be close enough to catch him. My hazer at school’s a guy named Harlan. He’s the best I’ve ever ridden with, but he’s traveling this summer,” Jason says, and I wonder how little he wanted to come home and help Mr. Martin. He stands behind me and points over my shoulder to the gate. “Watch this ride. The steer’s released first. He gets a head start.” Jason’s lips near my neck make it difficult to concentrate.
The steer shoots out of the gate followed by the two cowboys. The bulldogger and the hazer. The bulldogger dives off his horse onto the steer and twists its neck until it falls to the ground.
“That was a good run,” Jason says, and leans back to listen to the people next to us.
“I got him at 5.8,” the guy says, and Jason seems pleased.
“Do you always win?” I ask as I watch the next run.
“No one always wins, Annie. It’s like life.” My mouth dries as the memories of death creep up on my happiness. Jason watches me, knowing loss himself. I take a long sip of my beer and smile at my beautiful friend. He went through all this first. I love you .
He turns me around and kisses me, willing me to forget, at least for now. I hear the men next to us talking about the last run. I let go of our loss and remember where we are, and the fact that he is awesome on a horse.
“You seem like you’re better than everyone else.”
“I’m good, but there are a lot of things happening at the same time. It’s not like being able to swim a race fast, in a lane, without other things going on in the environment. There’s weather: it’s a rain-or-shine sport. There’s the fact I’m wrestling a live animal which hasn’t shook my hand and
“Leer’s here.” I hear them say, but I never take my eyes off the arena, too afraid to miss him.
“Oh, well this thing is tied up. What’s he doing home this summer anyway? I would have figured he’d be on the road,” the guy farthest from me says.
“I heard Old Man Martin practically begged him to come home. He needed help with the ranch since his stroke. Lord knows he could be winning a lot more money on the road.”
Another steer is released and two men on horses chase him. The cowboy dives off his horse and lands behind the steer, who continues to run right out the opposite gate in the fence. The cowboy’s slow to get up and my dread at Jason’s run quadruples. The other cowboy who rode with him gets off his horse and lends a hand to pull him up. He waves to the fence and a collective sigh is let out. I take another beer out of the cooler and drink it too fast.
I put the empty can back in the cooler as I see Jason on a horse in the gate. He’s saying something to Ollie and then he’s set. He nods and the gate opens and the steer runs. Jason follows from behind, catches him, dives and wrestles him to the ground.
“Holy! What time was that?” I hear, and release my breath.
“I got it at 4.8. That boy is quick.” I’m smiling, but my stomach is still knotted.
* * *
After ten minutes, Jason emerges from the other side of the fence. There are still wrestlers competing, but most of the crowd are already congratulating him. He stops to speak to a few. I’ve never seen anyone more comfortable with their surroundings. He runs this place. By the time he gets to me I’m three beers in the hole. His proximity calms me and the knots release.
“I have so many questions.”
“About bulldogging or something else?” Jason opens the cooler and pauses at the sight of the empty cans. He opens a beer and replaces the lid.
“Steer wrestling, although I would love to know what bulldogging is. I don’t understand what’s happening. It goes too fast.”
“Bulldogging is steer wrestling.”
“Helps. What’s the point of Ollie?” Jason laughs at this.
“He’s my hazer. He rides to direct the steer. He makes it possible for me to be close enough to catch him. My hazer at school’s a guy named Harlan. He’s the best I’ve ever ridden with, but he’s traveling this summer,” Jason says, and I wonder how little he wanted to come home and help Mr. Martin. He stands behind me and points over my shoulder to the gate. “Watch this ride. The steer’s released first. He gets a head start.” Jason’s lips near my neck make it difficult to concentrate.
The steer shoots out of the gate followed by the two cowboys. The bulldogger and the hazer. The bulldogger dives off his horse onto the steer and twists its neck until it falls to the ground.
“That was a good run,” Jason says, and leans back to listen to the people next to us.
“I got him at 5.8,” the guy says, and Jason seems pleased.
“Do you always win?” I ask as I watch the next run.
“No one always wins, Annie. It’s like life.” My mouth dries as the memories of death creep up on my happiness. Jason watches me, knowing loss himself. I take a long sip of my beer and smile at my beautiful friend. He went through all this first. I love you .
He turns me around and kisses me, willing me to forget, at least for now. I hear the men next to us talking about the last run. I let go of our loss and remember where we are, and the fact that he is awesome on a horse.
“You seem like you’re better than everyone else.”
“I’m good, but there are a lot of things happening at the same time. It’s not like being able to swim a race fast, in a lane, without other things going on in the environment. There’s weather: it’s a rain-or-shine sport. There’s the fact I’m wrestling a live animal which hasn’t shook my hand and
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