4. Jackson
four
Jackson
“ T hat steer looks fast, Jackson.”
Before Hunter positions his horse in his chute, he nods at me. “Take it quick before he gets away.”
“Yep. That’s the plan.”
I know how to wrestle a steer, but Hunter likes to say things out loud. It’s just the way he gets in the zone. But he has a knack for reading steers, unlike anyone else I know. I may do the physical part with the animal, but he’s part of the reason I do it so well.
Both of us are in position in the chutes on either side of the steer. Hunter is on the right and I’m on the left. The official signals they’re ready, and with a final deep breath, envisioning the time on the scoreboard, I nod to the judge at the steer chute. “Yep!”
Hunter was right and the steer bolts out of his chute like he’s on fire. But Hunter and his horse run the steer straight and I’m alongside it in a blink of an eye. I don’t hesitate. In one fluid move, I’m off my horse and half on top of the steer. My right arm hooks up and under his right horn, and I grip the other horn with my left hand. My feet plant into the soil and using my body weight, I twist the steer. The animal flips to its side on the ground, all four feet leaving the soil .
The crowd goes wild and my heart races as I wait for my official time.
It was a solid run, and the steer trots away while I whoop and search for Hunter. He’s pumping his fist and pointing at the scoreboard.
3.4 seconds.
That’s a personal best for me and the fastest time all weekend.
Trotting across the ring to Hunter and my horse, I swing back into the saddle.
“I knew this would be an epic rodeo for us. Keep that up and we’re winning the season without breaking a sweat.”
I beam at Hunter as the crowd still cheers and shouts my name.
“Fuck, I love this sport!” I shout and tip my head back, howling at the sky.
Hunter laughs as I tip my hat to the crowd and exit the back of the ring. To run a fast time is a great feeling. To run an epic time that nobody will touch has me walking on air. There are still several riders left tonight, and I don’t want to assume I’ve won the event, though. It only takes someone else’s best effort to knock me out of top place.
“No one is beating you tonight, Jack. You can breathe.”
Hunter chuckles next to me and his horse whinnies like she agrees with him.
“You know I don’t like making assumptions.”
The next two wrestlers miss their steer, and it’s no score for both. My heart kicks up a notch and I smooth a hand down my horse, Lady’s, neck. The next man is successful, but far too slow .
I can barely watch the last wrestler. He’s away clean. The steer is on the ground with all four feet pointing up. Hunter and I wait and watch the scoreboard.
3.6 seconds. We won!
Hunter whoops and slaps me on the back. “That’s what I’m talking about! Meet me at the truck after your victory lap.”
I wait at the chute on top of Lady until they announce the second and third-place finishers. When my name is called as tonight’s champion for steer wrestling, I ride Lady once around the ring, waving my hat to the crowd.
When I leave the ring, a voice calls my name and I urge Lady to a stop.
“Jackson! Hold up!”
A man wearing a jacket from the rodeo sponsor jogs up to me. He reaches me, and offers me a hand to shake.
“Thanks for waiting. I’m Neill from Neill and Dunn, the main sponsors of the rodeo circuit this year.”
Smiling, I dismount Lady and take his offered hand in a firm shake.
“Nice to meet you, Neill. Thanks for supporting the events. I love rodeo and you make it happen.”
“Well, I love rodeo too, but I was never good at it. The next best thing is rubbing shoulders with cowboys like yourself.” He hands me an envelope. “This is an invitation to the awards banquet after the Kissing Ridge Rodeo. It’s new this year and we’re inviting all the top performers. My partner wants to meet everyone and their other half.”
Neill is a kind man. People share nothing but good words about Neill and Dunn, and their sponsorship of events comes from a genuine love of rodeo. A formal banquet is new, though, and I’m excited it’s in my hometown. “Thank you so much, Neill. Can I come alone? This cowboy is whole as is.”
I gesture down my body with a laugh. Neill pats my arm with a chuckle.
“Oh, of course! No pressure. Dunn just likes to talk to spouses who never get the attention like the cowboys do. You don’t need a date or anything.”
“Thank you so much for the invite, Neill. I’ll do my best to be there.”
“Of course. I’ll let you take care of your horse. Enjoy the rest of the evening.” He turns to walk away but stops. “And congrats again on the win tonight.”
“Thank you!”
Leading Lady out back to where Hunter has his truck and horse trailer, I stuff the invite into my pocket.
Hunter’s horse is already tied and munching her dinner. He steps over and helps me unsaddle Lady. “How do you feel about joining the guys at the bar later tonight? Celebrate your big win?”
“You’re part of the win too, you know. Just because I do the wrestling part doesn’t mean you’re not important.”
Hunter pauses and his gaze meets mine quickly before he mutters a gruff, “Thanks.” He doesn’t like being acknowledged for anything good, but he lets me get away with it. It took us years of friendship and practice to gain that privilege, though.
“Yeah, I suppose I could go out for a bit. Not too late, though.”
Hunter snort-laughs. “I know, gramps. I’ll get you home at a decent time. ”
Shooting the middle finger at him, I continue brushing out Lady as she enjoys her evening snack. As much as Hunter and the others tease me, they also respect my desire to not stay out all night. Or drink too much. It’s never been my scene. When I first met our group of friends, I was hesitant to share my homebody tendencies. But our distinct personalities complement each other, and I’m never made to feel uncomfortable about not following the party crowd. Instead, I’m like the cool dad you can call when you need a sober ride home.
After we trailer our horses, Hunter drives us to the facility where we can house them in a comfortable barn stall for the night. We could drive the five hours straight home, but when we have this available, we both like to take it and get a decent sleep in the nearby hotel before the drive back.
After checking into our shared hotel room with two queen beds, we take turns cleaning up. Hunter plays a country music playlist and sings off-key in the shower while I reward myself with a bag of potato chips.
I wish it was hummus though.
And I wish I was still with Riley. It’s only been three days since we first formally met. I felt like I might throw up when he offered me his hand and a beautiful smile. Thankfully, I didn’t and stuck to quoting weird food facts instead. Which was only slightly less awkward.
I was running through my brain about how to ask him for his number—and sound mostly normal doing it—when Cameron, my now ex-business partner, bellowed for me and knocked my train of thought into the next station. I didn’t get a number, but at least I can meet him again on Wednesday .
“What’s got you grinning like that? A bag of chips can’t be that good.”
Hunter exits the bathroom with a billow of steam. He takes the longest and hottest showers of anyone I’ve ever met. But at least he stopped singing.
“Remember the guy from the park? The one at the bar who I couldn’t even squeak a hello to? He showed up this week.”
Hunter pauses toweling his hair and raises an eyebrow. “And?”
“He brought lunch for both of us and hoped I’d still be there.” A breathy sigh slips out and Hunter snorts.
“Good god, Jackson. You don’t even know his name and you have hearts in your eyes.”
“I got his name!” Folding up the chip bag, I toss it on the coffee table while Hunter gets dressed. Sometimes I don’t know how much to share with Hunter. He’s my best friend, but he’s such a cynic when we talk about relationships or love.
“And are you going to share it?”
Hunter pulls a clean T-shirt on and turns back to me.
“I don’t know if I should. You’re already teasing me, and I haven’t even told you what happened.”
Hunter stares me down, and I wait him out. Do I want to gush to someone about Riley? Fuck yes, I do. But not if they don’t share my excitement. I love Hunter. He’s my rodeo partner and closest friend. If I’m going to share with him, I need him in my corner.
Hunter sighs and sits on the edge of his bed. He chews his lips before finally speaking.
“Look, I know I tease you a lot, and most people think I’m an asshole. But…and if you repeat any of this to anyone, I will never forgive you,” He mumbles under his breath before meeting my ga ze. “Someday I’d like to have a partner who gives good hugs. Not just quick ones, either. A hug where it feels like they’re the glue to hold you together and you never want to let go. One day I’d like that.”
He dips his head my way. A signal it’s all he wants to share right now, but it’s a big one.
“Are you sure there’s nothing you want to talk about? That’s…a big reveal.”
Hunter shakes his head. “No. Now spill it. Tell me about this dude who has you sighing like that.”
So I do. Hunter listens and smiles when I talk too fast, and he laughs when I tell him about my blurted food facts.
“And you’re just going to meet him in the park again? What if he doesn’t show?”
“Well, I guess if he doesn’t, that’s the end of the story.”
“You give up too easily, Jacky. If he doesn’t show, then you hunt him down. You already know several things about him. Don’t give up if he lights a fire in you.” Hunter shoves his wallet and phone in his jeans pocket. “If you want something, chase it. It’s that simple.”
“Is it though? He might genuinely not like me. I can’t force him to.”
Joining Hunter at the door, I pat myself down to make sure I have what I need, and we exit our room.
“No, you don’t force him to. But if you keep showing up and wowing him, he’ll give in eventually.”
“Be careful, Hunter. That sounds almost like romancing someone. You don’t want to ruin your image.” I elbow him as we exit onto the street to walk the few blocks to the bar .
“Don’t forget you room with me. Sleep with one eye open if you rat me out, Jackson.”
“I’d never do that!”
Hunter side eyes me as we walk together. “I know,” he whispers, and I let it drop. One day, he’ll share more with me. Until then, he’s still the best hazer a steer wrestler could ask for.
And he always has my back.
“Jackson! Jacky, Jackmeister.” A giggle bubbles out of Jamieson as he sways into me.
“For a bull rider, you’re a lightweight with the liquor. Shouldn’t you be better at this?”
Jamieson grins at me and pokes my chest.
“Shouldn’t you be home and in bed, gramps? I’m no light wand.”
“Weight. Lightweight, J.”
His blurry eyes refocus on me. “That’s what I said.”
It’s not, but never argue with a drunk unless you’re prepared to go the distance and right now, I’m not. I’m tired and the bar scene got old fast tonight.
The boys bought me several drinks that I ended up giving away. Jamieson was also celebrating winning his event tonight, but unlike me, he celebrates hard .
“Where’s Griff? You two should head back to the hotel. It sucks driving with a hangover headache. Even when you’re the passenger.”
Jamieson has a moment of clarity and nods. “You speak the truth, gramps. Imma find Griff.”
He wobbles off and I shake my head with a grin. The guy rides bulls like he was born for it. He gets thrown around like a rag doll, sometimes has nasty spills and he bounces back like he’s rubber man. But give the big guy a few beers and he’s sloppy kissing strangers and falling asleep while standing.
Tough as nails, but zero alcohol tolerance.
“Do you want to head out of here?” Hunter appears and drains his beer next to me.
Exhaustion set in an hour ago, and I nod.
“Yeah. But you can stay if you’d like.”
It’s then we see Jamieson swaying in some kind of dance with several others, Griff hovering nearby, as they sing something that resembles a sea shanty. Hunter shakes his head.
“Nope. Time to go.”
Once out in the evening air, we walk in silence until he points to a hot dog cart vendor.
“Want one? I’ve fucking famished.”
“No thanks. But go ahead. I don’t know how you can eat that stuff.”
Hunter orders a hot dog as long as his arm and smothers it with every condiment the cart guy offers. My stomach turns looking at it.
“You don’t know what you’re missing,” he mumbles around a mouthful .
“Indigestion. That’s what I’m missing and I’m okay with it.”
Instead of walking, we step to the side so Hunter can eat the monstrosity without spilling it all over himself. When he’s finished, he wipes his hands with the napkin, grimaces, and orders a ginger ale from the vendor.
“That was not my smartest decision.” Hunter sips on the ginger ale and I stifle a laugh.
“I’ll agree with that.”