Chapter 7 #2
“Good thing there aren’t any students around!” her instructor called back.
“Ooops! Sorry!” Shyanna could feel her face burning, and it burned even hotter when she heard Roger and Jensen laughing at her.
“None of them are around right now. But for future reference …” Roger warned.
Shyanna held up her hand. “I get it. Sorry. I’ll be more careful.”
“The kid who climbs up in the middle of the table and eats a stick of butter?” Jensen asked, pointed at her, and laughed.
“Yep―that would be me,” she said, feigning embarrassment.
Roger pretended to huff. “You’re a bad influence, Strader. Now we’re off talking about kids eating butter instead of riding bulls. Shyanna, one more ride and break for lunch.”
“Yes, sir,” she barked up to him. Damn, the guy was a slave driver, but honestly, he was precisely what she needed.
The last bull he’d picked was a big Brahma named Mergatroid.
Shyanna took one look at him and felt a little sick.
He had a crazy look in his eyes, and his red and white mottled coat did nothing to make him seem less imposing.
Everything about the animal terrified her, not to mention he was the biggest bull she’d ever seen.
Dear god, do I really want to do this? she asked herself.
But she knew that when she went to an event, she could wind up with any bull there, so she figured she might as well get ready.
The chute handlers were waiting, and it seemed to take her an unusual length of time to get ready, but taking her time had paid off earlier in the day.
Now Jensen was watching, and what would he think if she failed miserably?
I can’t think about what anybody else thinks.
I’ve got to concentrate on the ride, she told herself firmly.
They loosened the rigging strap several times and shifted it, tightening it back down and letting her try out her grip until she got it the way she wanted it.
She worked the rosin into the rope and her glove, folded her fingers down, leaned back, and nodded.
The big Brahma burst out of the gate like he had wings, and as soon as those front feet went down, Shyanna’s feet went up.
Like you’re dancing, Roger had said earlier, so she loosened her waist and let the bull lead.
She could feel herself moving with him, her arm flexing as she went up and down with him, and suddenly there was a pickup rider beside her.
She let go, missed the pickup rider, and sailed through the air, landing hard on her butt, then scrambled for the railings as the bull charged toward her.
The student clowns did a good job of deflecting the bull and he took off at a lope through the gate to the holding area. Once she knew he was secure, she climbed down and dusted herself off, then limped toward where the guys sat. “How was that?”
Jensen held his hand out palm up toward Roger. “Pay up, Potter.”
“Aww, shit. Why’d you have to go and ride it out?” Roger whined toward Shyanna.
Her mouth fell open. “Did you bet against me?”
“Well, uh, I―”
“Some instructor you are! Pay the man!” she yelled at him and pointed at Jensen.
“Yeah. Pay me,” Jensen echoed, laughing.
“I take it I did okay?” Shyanna asked, glaring at Roger.
“Okay? You stayed on that bull for eight seconds and more. I can’t remember the last time I saw anybody stay on him for the full eight, much less longer. You’re doing great. Of course, I’m such a great instructor that―”
“You bet against me. Save your lies, mister,” Shyanna said with a wink. “I’m hungry. Where’s the food?”
“Coming with us, Roger?” Jensen asked as he rose and made his way down the stands toward Shyanna.
“Nah. But thanks for asking. Maybe tomorrow. I’ve got a student I’ve got to go meet with.
You’ll probably be back before I get finished with him so, if you are, go ahead and look at some of the other bulls.
Start watching how they move, how they turn, how they react to humans even in their pens.
You can tell a lot from watching animals,” Roger said and waved as he headed up the stands.
“I’ll catch up with you guys in an hour and a half or so. ”
Jensen led Shyanna across in front of the holding pens and out the alley of the arena into the sunlight. “What sounds good for lunch? Right up the road there’s a pizza place, and a little diner that has plate lunches, and―”
“I want you to take me to a place where you hung out when you were a student here,” she said with a grin.
“Okay. Dakota Joe’s Feed and Bait it is.”
When they sat down with their menus, Shyanna was thrilled.
They had all kinds of pub-type foods like jalapeno poppers, loaded potato skins, and some kind of quartered grilled cheese sandwiches smashed flat like chips with a homemade corn salsa to scoop up.
Everything smelled fantastic. They were laughing and talking when they heard a female voice say, “Hey! Hi, y’all! ”
Shyanna turned to see Amber and SammyJo sitting two tables away. “Hi,” Shyanna answered unenthusiastically. Trying to make friends with other women had never worked out well for her.
“Hey, girls, how are you?” Jensen said when he looked back and saw them.
“We’re good, Coach Strader. We’re loving taking care of your horses,” SammyJo said.
“Yeah?”
Amber grinned. “Yeah. I love Cobra, but he’s kinda snotty.” That made Jensen chuckle. “But Rhubarb is a beautiful horse, and so gentle too.”
“Thanks,” Shyanna said and gave them a weak smile. What was she supposed to say?
“Have you had her long?” SammyJo asked.
“About seven years. She’s about twelve now.”
Amber nodded. “Good age for roping horses.”
“I ’spose,” Shyanna answered.
“You girls want to come over and sit with us?” Jensen asked, and Shyanna panicked.
She tried to signal him with her eyes, but he wasn’t paying any attention.
The girls picked up their food and drinks and made their way to the table, taking the other two chairs, SammyJo beside Jensen and Amber beside Shyanna.
“Thank you so much for asking us. We wanted to come over, but we didn’t want to ask,” SammyJo said, blushing a tiny bit. “We were afraid it would be rude.”
“Nah,” Jensen assured her. “We’re glad to spend time with you. Right, Shy?”
“Yeah. Absolutely,” she answered, feeling horribly uncomfortable.
“So, Miss Owens, how long did you ride rough stock?” SammyJo asked.
“Not long at all. A little while in college. I’m just getting started again. You said you’d done a little bull riding,” Shyanna said, directing the comment toward Amber.
“Yes, ma’am,” she answered.
“Just Shyanna or Shy is fine,” Shyanna told the girl.
“Okay. Um, yeah. I did a little bull riding when I was in 4-H, but by the time I got here, it wasn’t something high on my priority list. It was too painful and my studies are too important. After I graduate, well, maybe then,” Amber said.
“What about you, SammyJo?” Jensen asked.
“Nooo. I’m not interested. I’m a roper, pure and simple. Never had any desire to ride rough stock.”
“What about steer wrestling?” Shyanna asked.
“Too small,” SammyJo answered.
“No you’re not!” Shyanna almost yelled back. “It’s not about size! It’s about technique.”
“She’s right,” Jensen added. “It’s all about technique. Are you interested in steer wrestling?”
“You really think I could do that?” SammyJo asked, her brow falling.
“Yes! You’ve got good upper body strength for your size. Get Coach Potter to teach you. And if I can help you, I’ll be glad to. Of course, we won’t be here long,” Shyanna reminded the girl.
“I’ll talk to him about it. Thanks!” SammyJo happily shoved two French fries into her mouth and Shyanna almost laughed. It was as though the girl was celebrating a victory with those fries.
They finished the meal, chatting and laughing, and when they were finished Jensen said, “We’ve got to get back. She’s got a full afternoon of bull riding. But thanks, girls. Thanks for the attention you’ve been giving our horses, especially ornery old Cobra.”
“We’re glad to,” Amber told him, and Shyanna could tell she wasn’t blowing smoke up their asses. The two girls were made for the kind of work they were doing, and they were happy doing it.
The ride back to the university farm was relaxed, and for the first time, Shyanna was glad she was there, glad she was staying with Jensen and his family. They’d been nice to her, at least to her face. She had to wonder what they really thought of her, but so far, they’d said nothing.
At least as far as she knew.
“I’m not signing this,” Dale said and tossed the contract onto the hotel room desk.
“But it’s money for us,” Jimmy argued.
“Yeah. Too much money. There’s something wrong with what they’re doing. There’s no way they could get enough out of sponsoring us to justify the amount of money they say they’ll give us. There’s something else going on here,” Dale countered.
“Doesn’t matter. Did you read the contract?”
“Of course I did. Did you?” Dale asked.
Jimmy shook his head. “I saw the figures. That’s all I need to know.”
“And you’re a damn idiot. I read the contract. Do you know what they want us to do? They want their pharmaceuticals to be used exclusively on our event grounds. And because they won’t have every medication our animals need, we’ll have―”
“A lot of money, that’s what we’ll have!
If somebody has an animal who needs a med that we can’t supply because of the contract, they can fucking leave!
” Jimmy bellowed. “Don’t you get it? This could let us do some of the things we’ve been wanting to do for our competitors!
And offer bigger prizes so we can attract bigger names!
Don’t you think we need to do this for them? ”
“We’ve got some good guys coming up through the ranks. Max and Tilford. And we’ve got Strader. The guy is pure gold. He needs to get through this year and when he does, he’ll be on top in rough stock. We can put all his success to work for us. But we can’t ruin everything with greed.”