33. Jude
33
jude
A s soon as we got out of the truck in the packed, open-field parking lot, the sun was already beating down on us. Music, the bells and lowing of cattle, the crowd cheering, and the booming voice of the announcer echoed through the stadium speakers.
A wave of nostalgia hit me as Uncle Chuck and I funneled in with the rest of the Fourth of July crowd. Everyone was decked out in cowboy hats and boots … red, white, and blue, and a few Support the Troops army-green tees. The air was fragrant with dirt, hay, fried food, manure, and horse. So many Independence Days were spent in those grandstands, eating hot dogs while watching Uncle Chuck lasso a calf or Hazel Miller run the quickest loops around barrels, then being treated to the biggest fireworks show in Oregon. Pretty sure there were a handful of years I fell asleep in the back of the truck with a sticky smile on my face.
This time was special, though, because it would be the first time seeing Lina barrel race, and she was currently holding the fastest record of the season.
With a beer and dog in hand, I settled into a seat, my eyes scrutinizing the entrance for Romy and Sage. Uncle Chuck headed down to the corrals. I pulled my cowboy hat down low, hoping no one would recognize me. I hated being noticed on days like today. My fists clenched every time I heard someone yell, “Hey, look, it’s Jude ‘The Bull’ Larsen!”
After a show led by Warm Springs dancers in full regalia and the “National Anthem,” the ladies of the rodeo court galloped in a loop around the arena. The announcer proclaimed each princess, and this year’s queen, before welcoming the men and ladies of today’s competitions. All competing for ten thousand dollars and a Willows Rodeo belt buckle.
Lina, Christian, and Kale were among them. Unable to clap with my hands full, I yelled as loudly as I could. Lina spotted me, giving me the biggest grin and the tiniest wave.
The first competition was the bucking broncos. I scanned the crowd, spotting Romy walking in. She was sexy as hell, dressed for revenge. Her tan legs looked so long. I yearned to wrap them around me. My cock twitched, seeing how perky her tits appeared in that denim dress. God, and that mouth! Ruby lipstick that I wanted to see smudged on my dick.
Under the shade of my cowboy hat, I watched her like a fucking creep. She hadn’t seen me yet, but I could tell she was casually looking while talking to Sage on their way to find a seat.
If it was space she wanted, she would get it, but only for a time because I was gearing up for a fight, and this one wasn’t in a cage.
Lina was on deck, and I could see her sidestepping Mushu toward the arena entrance, holding him back even though he was raring to go. The announcer boomed her name, and the crowd cheered and whistled. Apparently, there was only one hometown champion here today, and it wasn’t me.
Capturing my own performance jitters for my baby cousin, I couldn’t help but yell, “Go, Lina!”
Romy spun in her seat when she heard me holler. She gave me a look that said more than she’d said in the last two days, then spun back around to sip her beer.
Then Lina and her horse were off. Her seat barely in the saddle, her legs flapping in the stirrups like wings as they made the quickest, sharpest loops around the barrels in the arena. I watched the timer tick down on the scoreboard.
One barrel. It remained still.
I held my breath as she charged toward the second. Mushu dragged his butt around the barrel, his hind quarter muscles working hard. Dirt kicked up so thick, I could barely see Mushu’s feet. Lina pushed down her heels and held her hands low, effortlessly guiding him to change direction.
She rounded the final barrel, kicking as hard as she could while Mushu scattered dust. Then she gave him his head, plowing back to the gate.
The timer stopped.
Clocking her at … 18.3 seconds!
The crowd went wild. Up on my feet, I jumped up and down, cheering with the rest of them. She did it!
Romy turned again, our eyes instantly connecting. This time, she smiled. I gave her the most charming cowboy tip of the hat I could, making her laugh before she shifted back in her seat.
Got ya, honey.
“That was incredible, Lina!” Romy wrapped her arms around Lina’s shoulders.
“I’m so proud of you, darlin’,” Uncle Chuck beamed, getting his own hug from his daughter.
I took in the shiny, new belt buckle around her waist. “You earned it, cuz.” She gave me knucks.
Christian, Kale, and Sage all took their turns congratulating Lina as we headed to the Willows Trading Post, otherwise known as the barn dance or the beer garden. Nightfall wasn’t for another hour, so we had time to celebrate before the fireworks.
Lina looped her arm through Romy’s. “We’re getting drunk tonight!”
Romy snickered. Lina shot me a wink over her shoulder.
“I guess I’m buying,” Uncle Chuck grumbled.
“You’re a good man, Chuck.” Christian patted Uncle Chuck’s shoulder.
“Not for you, dipshit.” Uncle Chuck shrugged him off.
“Aw, man!” Christian complained.
A live band was playing classic country underneath the hundreds of strung lights that lined the old, converted barn’s rafters. Attempting to compete with the volume of the music, rodeo-goers already deep in their cups shouted their conversations and boomed their laughs. A dozen couples line-danced in front of the stage, the heels of their boots clicking against the worn, wood floor.
Our group headed over to the bar, while Uncle Chuck ordered everyone whiskey and a beer back.
“You’re the best, Daddy,” Lina said, leaning in to kiss her dad on the cheek.
“Only for my baby girl.”
We all toasted the rodeo competitors before slamming back our shots.
“More!” Lina yelled, lifting her shot glass.
Seeing the rodeo star in our midst, the bartender came around to refill our shot glasses. We all slung them back, chasing them down with the frothy, light beer. Four refills later, and we were just as loud as the rest of the Trading Post crowd.
The band was starting to get really good. Kale and Christian were pretending they knew the words to every song, singing into their beer bottles like microphones. Romy looked as though she was having fun, finally letting go, laughing and talking with Sage, Lina, and Uncle Chuck. She still hadn’t said more than two words to me.
“Sage, will you dance with me?” Christian asked, his hand outstretched. The poor guy was always shooting his shot.
“Not a chance. I don’t do cowboys.”
“Would you do this cowboy?”
“In your dreams.”
“Every night, baby.”
Sage turned away, putting her back to him. “Should I go order us some curly fries?”
“Yes, please! I’m starved!” Lina exclaimed.
Christian’s shoulders slumped watching Sage walk away.
I gave him a thump on the back. “I’m sure there are plenty of other girls who would dance with you.”
“Buckle bunnies are wearing on me and not in the good way.” He pouted.
“I’ll dance with you,” Romy piped up.
My eyes shot to her. A spike of jealousy carving through my chest. He was one of my oldest friends, and I knew he wouldn’t slide in like that. But the alcohol coursing through my system wasn’t rational. I sucked in air through my nose.
“Yeah?” Christian’s eyes lit up.
“Sure.” She threw back her shot, washing it down with a gulp of beer before hopping off her barstool.
“Is that all right, bro?” Christian asked me.
Romy gripped his arm, pulling him away. “He’s not my keeper. Come on.”
Christian must have felt my eyes driving daggers into him because he mouthed “sorry” before shrugging and following her to the dance floor.
I could feel heat building in my gut watching Christian hold her hand while she followed him in a two-step. Any closer and her body would be pressed against him. I took a sip of my beer, hoping that it would cool my insides, but it stung like the whiskey going down my throat. Romy moved his hand to her lower back.
Lina shuffled over to me, her back leaning against the high-top table while she looked at me. “Seems she means war. Are you going to stand for that?”
Taking my gaze away from the dance floor, I glanced at Lina. Her brows raised expectantly, waiting for me. She was right. This was my moment.
“Fuck it.” I chugged the rest of my beer, slamming it down on the table.
Romy was still spinning in Christian’s arms to the rhythm of the music. She was laughing. But all I heard was my heart pounding in my ears.
Barely slowing down, I dropped my hat on Romy’s head, then threw her over my shoulder.