The Final Ride

The tall man, shoved his Stetson to the back of his head and leaned against the corral fence to stare at the big, grey stallion across the clumpy ground. 

    The earthy smell of fresh manure wafted across the rodeo arena to the cowboy.  He hooked the heel of his hand-tooled leather boot over the bottom fence rung and rested his chin on his crossed arms and watched the big horse, watch him.

    Jordan Christian was a cowboy, he’d always been a cowboy, and he would always be a cowboy.  As a two-time Saddle Bronc champion he had ridden many a rank horse in his day, but he knew that the horse on the other side of the fence would be his biggest test ever.  He knew that, because the last three times he had sat in the saddle of the big horse, he had lost.

    At Tucson Rodeo Days, last year, he had lasted all of 3 seconds before being slammed to the dirt.

    Later that summer, he had drawn the outlaw stallion again at Cheyenne’s Frontier Days.  He had left Wyoming with his wrist in a splint and only a third- place paycheck to show for his efforts.

    The last time was in Houston at the Stock Show.  He had narrowly missed having his head stomped on by the big horse.

    And now here he was in Burwell, Nebraska getting ready for Nebraska’s Big Rodeo, and he had drawn the gray Cloud Master one more time.  Nobody had ridden him in the last 27 tries, although Jordan’s Houston ride was about as close as anyone had come in quite a while. 

    Jordan tipped his hat to the stallion.  “Well, old hoss, I’ll be seeing ya tomorrow. Hope you’re ready.”  With that he turned to leave.  He needed to get his gear together, and he wanted a good night’s sleep.  While many of the cowboys would be at the local watering holes, trying to drink up all the Coors beer and Pendleton Whisky they could, Jordan knew he would need to be on the top of his game if he was to finally come out on top.  If he could top off Cloud Master, then the beer would taste that much better.

    Jordan wove his way through the other cowboys and cowgirls who were checking out the arena and bucking chutes.  He nodded to a couple of old friends.  A couple cowboys slapped him on the back as he made his way through, acknowledging his herculean task tomorrow.

    He opened the door to his beat-up Dodge Ram pickup.  He shoved his canvas duffle bag across the seat, where his Border Collie, Daisy, sat looking at him expectantly. 

    “Well, girl, let’s get to the motel and get us a couple steaks, then we can get ready for tomorrow.” He said as he scratched the dog behind her ears.

    He started the truck, and slipped it in reverse and backed out of the parking stall.  Turning right on the highway, he drove the two blocks to his motel, The Rodeo Inn.  Jordan had been staying here the last three years when riding in Burwell.  The ‘Square’ as the locals called the downtown area was another two blocks and had everything from pizza, to steak, and most importantly to most cowboys: beer.

    That was the last thing on Jordan’s mind tonight though.  He might have one or two Coors to settle his nerves, but he planned on simply ordering a steak for himself and one for Daisy and taking it easy.  As he slipped the key into the lock on the door, he wondered why he was so nervous about this ride.  He had certainly been on outlaws before.  Must be getting old, he thought, shaking away the doubts in his head.

    Jordan opened the door and was struck by a wave of cold air blowing from the window unit air conditioner.  Well, he thought, at least it works, even if it does sound like a combine driving down a gravel road.  He threw his duffle on the closest twin bed, and went back out to his truck to drag in his cooler.

    He propped open the door with the cooler and dug around in it, until he came out with a bottle of Coors Banquet.  He popped the top and took a long, cold swig.

    He sighed contently.  “That hits the spot, Daisy, ol’ girl.” He said as he reached down to tickle her ears.  The dog looked up at him as if to say, “Didn’t you promise me a steak?”

    Jordan laughed.  “Right you are, girl.  I’ll call down to the Northside and order them, now.” 

    An hour later, Jordan sat in the desk chair he had drug outside with a Coors in one hand, while he stroked a contented Daisy who lay beneath him with the other. 

    His thoughts once again went back to Cloud Master and tomorrow’s ride.  He replayed his last three rides against the big stallion in his head and tried to figure what had gone wrong.  The big horse had a nasty habit of going after downed riders.  He had sent more than one cowboy out of an arena on a stretcher.  A good bucking horse was one thing, but Cloud Master seemed to have a streak of evil in him- that defied logic.

    He set the empty bottle down and dug in the cooler for another.  He was surprised when he realized he had gone through the whole six-pack.  That certainly hadn’t been his intention.  He looked at the gathering dusk and figured, it was time for bed anyway.  He stood up, stretched, and drug everything back inside and closed the door behind him, planning on getting a good night’s rest.

***

    The morning sun, shone brightly through the window, Jordan had neglected to pull the shade down on last night.  He rubbed his eyes, and looked over at Daisy who was curled up on the other bed. He swung his feet to the threadbare carpet and stood with a groan.  He stretched, feeling his back and shoulder pop, like it did most mornings.  He had to chuckle to himself, as it always reminded him of popcorn when he got up in the morning.  Well, it wasn’t as if his granddaddy hadn’t warned him about the pains he’d endure if he continued rodeoing. 

    He padded barefoot into the bathroom, relieved himself, and brushed his teeth.  As he looked in the mirror, he was always amazed at the man that looked back at him.  He knew that a lot of women found him attractive and they always commented on his piercing blue eyes, but more and more the crow’s feet were getting longer and longer, and his nose, had a decidedly bent cast to it, after getting thrown over a bronc in North Platte last month.  He had to admit, he looked a helluva lot older than his thirty-one years.  Bah, you’re only as old as you let yourself be, he figured. 

    He spat the toothpaste into the sink, shook a couple Tylenol into his hand and chased them down with a drink of water.  He took one more look in the mirror, then went back to the bedroom to get dressed.

    He pulled on his jeans and then sat down on the bed to pull on his boots.  He loved these boots.  After he won his first world championship several years ago, he had hired Heritage Boots out of Austin, Texas to make him a pair of hand-tooled boots.  They had set him back a pretty penny, but they fit like a glove and were soft as a baby’s butt.  He stood up to stomp his feet down in them. 

    He then dug through his duffel to find a shirt to wear.  He decided on the light blue one that Alison had bought him a few years ago for his birthday.  He hoped she would be here this weekend.  He thought back fondly to their time together.  Alison Roberts was a top-notch barrel racer that he had dated for a while.  They had a short but fiery romance during a rodeo season.  But, they had both been just too busy with their own careers and schedules and it hadn’t worked out.  They parted as friends and they still enjoyed each other’s company when they were fortunate enough to be at the same place at the same time.

    He snapped the front of his shirt up and tucked the tail into his jeans and buckled his belt.

    Jordan looked at Daisy, who was waiting patiently by the door to be let out to do her morning business.

    “Sorry, girl.”  He said as he walked to the door and opened it to let her out.  She made a bee-line to the threadbare patch of grass next to his pick-up.  Jordan watched to make sure he wouldn’t have to pick up any droppings.  But, apparently Daisy simply needed to void her bladder, because she was back in a minute wagging her tail, telling her master she was hungry and ready for the day.

    The tall cowboy reached down and patted the dog.  “Let’s go down and get us some breakfast, how’s that sound, girl?”

    The dog’s tail whipped faster and she jumped up to give Jordan a lick on the face as if to say, that was a fine idea.

    Jordan, double-checked to make sure he had his gear and everything else he might need for a day at the arena, and then closed the door behind him.

    He opened the driver’s side door of his truck.  “Guess, we’re both getting old.” he thought as he had to help Daisy up into the high cab.

    The dog moved over to the passenger side as Jordan slid behind the wheel.  He looked over at his canine companion, started the truck, and said.  “Ready or not, here we come.”

***

    Jordan stood at attention holding his hat over his heart while the National Anthem was sung by the young lady near the bucking chutes.  He loved the patriotism and pageantry of the rodeo.  Watching the Rodeo Queen ride her horse around the arena carrying the American flag always put him in a good mood and reminded him of why he loved this sport so.

    The crowd whooped as the anthem finished, and Jordan used his finger to wipe away the tears that had gathered at the corner of his eyes, the way they always did when he heard The Star-Spangled Banner.  When he was younger, he was self-conscious about it.  Now, he couldn’t give a damn who saw him like this.

    He clapped his Stetson on his head and headed to the area behind the bucking chutes, where the rough stock was penned.  Saddle Bronc was the third event of the day, and he was the third rider of the event.  His lucky number was three, so he thought this a good omen.

    He would watch the bareback event, then go check on Daisy, to make sure she still had plenty of water.  The dog would stay in the back of the pick-up on her pillow under the tarp he always rigged for her.  Short of a fire, she wouldn’t leave the truck until Jordan returned.

    As he made his way to the waiting area, he bumped into a short, bow-legged stocky cowboy.

    “Well, well, well.”  The shorter man said.  “Who do we have here?  I see you drew Cloud Master.  Reckon you’ll be able to stay in the saddle this time?”

    Jordan looked down into the face of the shorter man.  Shorty Cofield, was a bull rider, and he and Jordan had never gotten along.  There was something about the pugnacious cowboy that Jordan disliked.  Of course, if he was being fair with himself, it also had to do with Shorty taking an interest in Alison in the past year that they had broken up.  Jordan didn’t think anything had happened between them, but the mere fact that Shorty was pursuing her rankled.

    Jordan gave a tight-lipped smile.  “You just worry about them bulls, Shorty, and let me worry about the real cowboying.”  With that he turned his back and continued on his way.

    He finally made his way to the area behind the chutes, just in time to watch a South Dakota cowboy get bucked off a big bay mare and hit the dirt.  The cowboy climbed to his feet and limped through the gate being held open for him.  Bareback riding was different from Saddle Bronc.  Bareback, you basically sat on top of a horse, hanging on to nothing more than a suitcase handle and hoped you lasted eight seconds.  Saddle Bronc, was true riding, in Jordan’s mind.  You sat in the saddle, grabbed a lead rope from the halter, and spurred the horse, trying to get in sync with the animal.  Most Saddle Bronc cowboys, felt that other than the roping events, it was the closest thing to true cowboying.

***

    The announcer’s voice boomed through the arena loudspeaker.  “Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together and welcome a Nebraska cowboy, Jordan Christian.  Today he will continue his battle with Cloud Master.” 

    Jordan could barely hear the rest of the commentation about his earlier bouts with the big grey as he settled down into the saddle.  He felt confident that if he could stick the eight seconds he would easily surpass the 74 points that Tim Smith led the event with.  Smith had made a decent ride, but the mare he had drawn, hadn’t held up her end of the bargain and had simply crow-hopped in a straight line down the arena floor.

    He couldn’t worry about that now.  He’d better have his head screwed on straight and worry about the ride he was about to have.

    Jordan settled in, grasped the lead rope tightly in his right fist, took a quick peek out into the crowd, then nodded his head.

    The chute banged open.  Jordan marked out beautifully.

ONE-Cloud Master buck jumped to the left, and Jordan continued to spur him hard.

TWO-Suddenly, the big horse, swapped directions, trying to lose his rider, but Jordan was ready for it, and sat tall, with his chest out.

THREE-All of a sudden, the horse’s head disappeared from view as he kicked with all his might with both hind legs.

FOUR-Jordan’s head snapped forward and he felt his nose start to bleed.

FIVE-Cloud Master, whipped back to the right and sun-fished violently, almost unseating the cowboy.

SIX-By God, I’m gonna do this! Jordan thought.

SEVEN-Cloud Master, buck jumped sideways, practically showing his belly to the sky and Jordan could feel air beneath the seat of his pants and the saddle.

EIGHT-As the buzzer sounded Jordan could feel himself airborne, no longer part of the horse or saddle.  He could only wonder, did he make the buzzer?

THE END