Chapter 6 #2
It was going to happen! She was going to get to start riding again! She could barely wait, even though she was terrified. When she stepped through the doorway into the barn, she could hear some of the bulls snorting on the other sides of their enclosures, and she wondered which one was Shifty.
“Here we go,” Jensen said, stepping up to a tubular steel gate.
A snuffling sound filled the space and when she caught sight of the bull, she felt woozy.
At his withers, he was at least ten inches taller than she was, and he was so broad she wasn’t sure her legs would fit around him. “Well? Whaddya think?”
No way would she let him see her the least bit scared. “Looks like a crazy ride. Let’s do it.”
“Okay then. A few of the guys are going to start loading the bulls into the chutes.” Then his head shot up. “Hey, how’s it goin?” Jensen called past her.
“Good morning! Going good,” Roger answered. “Chosen a bull?”
“Yep. Old Shifty here,” Jensen said before Shyanna had a chance to answer. “I think she’s rearin’ to go too.”
“Is that right?” Roger asked.
“Sure is,” Shyanna answered, hoping he couldn’t hear the trepidation in her voice.
“Well, then, let’s get some bulls in chutes and some riggin’ on ’em and see what you and the boys can do.
Lexi? Rory? We need Shifty, Two-Hand Luke, and Grizzly loaded in chutes one, two, and three, please,” Roger barked to two young men at the end of that barn’s concourse, and they both took off toward the arena.
Shyanna knew that the other side of the pens they were standing near ran alongside the center of the arena, and it would only be a matter of herding them around a bit to get the bulls into the chutes.
As he headed the same direction, he turned and looked back to Jensen.
“Take her over to the tack room at barn two. There should be plenty of riggin’ and the like in there.
She can take her pick to use until she can get some of her own. ”
“Thank you,” Shyanna called after him, but he just gave her a back-handed wave and kept walking. “That’s really nice of him,” she told Jensen as he walked alongside her toward the second barn.
“Yeah, but what else was he going to do? You don’t have any of that stuff. And you’re going to need a saddle for saddle bronc riding, and riggin’ for bareback broncs too. You’ve got a lot of stuff you need,” he pointed out.
“True. At least some of the stuff is interchangeable though. I can use the same flanking strap for both bronc events, but what about for the bull riding event?”
“Yeah, you’ll need a different flanking strap for that.
This will be a good chance for you to try out a lot of different kinds of things and see which suits you best. Here we go,” he said as they rounded the corner of the tack room.
“And word of warning: You will be wearing a helmet. No argument. And a vest.”
“Yes, Daddy,” she snapped.
“Don’t be a smartass. At least I care what happens to you,” Jensen answered, his voice icy.
Shyanna’s face burned. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I’m not used to anybody giving a damn about me. It’s kind of weird―kind of nice, but kind of weird.”
His eyes softened. “I get it. Stick around me long enough and you’ll get used to it,” he said with a tiny grin. “Now let’s get you ready to ride.”
Ten minutes later, Shyanna had a vest, helmet, some gloves, a riggin’ strap, and a flanking strap.
She also had rosin for her gloves. The only part she hated was the chaps.
Bright red leather with white leather diamonds inlaid down the sides and white fringe, they screamed Roy Rogers and Dale Evans, and she cringed as she looked down.
But they were top quality and very well padded, and they’d keep her legs very safe.
Note to self: Get plain brown chaps, she said internally as they made their way to the arena.
Roger looked up as they walked in and he pointed to the chute. “They’re waiting for you,” he said, and she followed his finger.
Shyanna could see the big bull rattling around inside the chute.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
her brain whined. Two pickup riders waited on either side of the gate astride a couple of beautiful horses, and two students acting as rodeo clowns wandered about the center of the dirt oval with their giant rubber barrel.
As she climbed up onto the tubular steel rungs of the chute, she decided that she’d possibly completely lost her mind.
She didn’t dare turn to look at Jensen. That would most likely have her running for the nearest exit.
Stepping on it first and then letting herself down carefully onto the bull’s back, she waited as the helpers drew the rigging tight and handed her the rope end.
She wound it around her gloved hand, worked some rosin into it, and wound it again.
Pretty soon, it was as tight as she dared get it, pinky wrap and all.
“Flanking strap?” one of the guys asked, and Shyanna nodded.
The bull shifted and bellowed, banging one of her legs on the gate, but she held fast. What do I know about this?
she asked herself. In seconds, she leaned back against the bull’s back and nodded.
Shifty burst out of the chute on a vertical trajectory and as soon as those front feet came down, Shyanna’s feet came up.
The rowels of her smooth spurs grazed the bull’s shoulders as he went back up and her feet came back.
Over and over they danced that dance, but Shyanna knew she’d been in trouble from the very beginning.
She felt lopsided, like she was sliding to her right, and in seconds, she was in the dirt.
It seemed an eternity until the buzzer went off.
How long had she ridden? Two seconds? Three?
It was an embarrassingly short time, she knew that much.
She scrambled to get out of the bull’s path and in no time, the guys had him back in the holding area.
She brushed dirt off the seat of her jeans as she walked, limping a little, straight to Jensen. “How’d I―”
“You okay?” he asked, interrupting her.
“Yeah. I’m fine. How did I―”
“No. Roger’s going to critique you. We thought that was best. He’s got more practice at it, and he isn’t … the two of you don’t know each other personally,” Jensen said, faltering a little. “What I mean is―”
“I get it,” Shyanna said and let one corner of her mouth creep up. “That’s fine. So,” she called out, turning toward Roger in the stands about forty yards away, “how did I do?”
“Didn’t get your feet up high enough as soon as he came down that first time. That gave you a false impression of how high they needed to be, so you couldn’t continue with consistency. And you were off balance from the very start.”
“I knew that part. I could feel it. It’s the reason I started slipping toward the end of the ride. How long was I―”
“Around two and a half seconds,” Roger answered. “You’ll do better next time.”
“I certainly hope so,” she muttered under her breath.
“And you held your arm too rigid. Kept it straight but your elbow loose. Locking your elbow will lead to an injury. That tiny little bend will let your muscles do the work and keep the joint from accidentally over-extending.”
“Good to know,” Shyanna said, thinking about his words. He was doing his best to tell her what to do to make everything work better, and she knew she had to get the chip off her shoulder and listen up.
“Let’s watch the other two guys and then you can go again,” Jensen told her, and they took seats in the stands near Roger.
As the two young men rode, Jensen pointed out things they were doing right and things they were doing wrong.
Shyanna could see in at least two of those examples how she’d done the exact same thing, to her own detriment.
By the time they both had ridden and Jensen and Roger had given their critiques, it was her turn again.
That time, she already had a feel for Shifty.
Based on her earlier ride, she knew he was powerful coming out, then settled into a rhythm with a few twists.
She could handle those twists. As soon as she got to the chute, she evaluated the rigging.
“Pull that a little to the left,” she told one of the guys, and he loosened it and twisted it slightly to her left.
“Perfect,” she said as she lowered herself onto the bull.
When she had her hand tightened into the rigging, she slid her backside ever so slightly to the left and leaned to the right as she lay back.
She could feel it―balance. Perfect balance.
“Yup,” she told the guys as she nodded, and the gate opened.
When Shifty came out of the gate, he went straight up again, but when he came down, it was slightly to the left.
Shyanna was ready. She could hear Roger’s words in her head: Keep your torso loose and soft.
Don’t tighten up. If he shifts left, you shift right, but keep your ass firmly planted, even when your feet are up.
The bull was powerful and he did everything he could to dislodge her, but Shyanna hung on.
At one point, she felt herself slipping sideways, but she remembered those words and let her upper body go the opposite way, and everything stayed together.
Shyanna barely heard the buzzer―the sound couldn’t make it over the voices in her head, the ones telling her what to do and how to do it.
Suddenly, the bull calmed and the next thing she knew, a rescue rider was beside her.
“Let go!” he ordered, and she worked her hand loose to let him pull her from the bull, whose flanking strap had already been loosened.
The second the bull moved away, the pickup rider spun her and set her on her feet in the dust. She watched as the gate opened and the bull ran straight through it into the holding area.
Dusting off the seat of her jeans wasn’t necessary―she hadn’t landed on it.