Chapter Five
The roar hit me first. It wasn’t the polite clap of a theater audience; it was a hungry riot of a crowd ready to watch adrenaline surge for two hours. The announcer’s voice was booming, letting the crowd know the rodeo was going to start in five minutes.
I had made it just in time. I made my way to a ticket booth and leaned in close so the woman in a flimsy cowboy hat could hear me. “Allegra Ford, I should have a ticket waiting.”
The woman nodded and reached for an envelope. “Enjoy the show,” she said with a thick Southern accent as she slid it to me.
I took the lanyard with an all-access pass out of the envelope and put it around my neck.
There were hundreds of booths lining the halls.
Pictures, t-shirts, hats, toys–you name it, they had it–and worst of all, food.
Oh my goodness, the deep-fried food trucks that surrounded me were taunting as my stomach growled.
The last food I remembered eating was a sad bag of stale pretzels on the plane, hours ago.
No. I needed to focus. I could eat at the hotel after. I needed to get backstage before the show started.
Looking around at the last few latecomers trying to get to their seats in time, I realized how out of place I looked.
Almost everyone was wearing pants that were fit at the hips and thighs and flared from the knee to ankle, allowing enough room for their boots.
The younger girls were wearing shorts that were cut off short enough to only cover their butts–with boots, of course.
And the hats, I hardly saw the top of anyone’s head as they were all covered with straw and felt hats.
I was in my sweaty blue button-up shirt, heels that were blistering my feet, and white pants that, by some miracle, were still clean. My hair was beginning to drive me crazy, and I resisted the urge to dig in my briefcase until I found my elastic from the plane.
I made it behind the chutes right before the announcer stopped the music.
“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, COWBOYS AND COWGIRLS, ARE YOU READY FOR A RODEO?” He screamed, and the crowd roared back in response.
“Welcome to the biggest, baddest, most adrenaline-fueled show on dirt. We’ve got an incredible night ahead of us.
The best riders, the fastest barrels, and the toughest buckin’ stock ever assembled. ”
I looked around at the impressive number of animals that surrounded me. They were trained rodeo pets, not even phased by the ear-splitting volume of the crowd and the announcer.
“That’s right, we’re talkin’ about the very best of the National Rodeo Tour, and we are ready to see some records broken tonight!”
My stomach dropped to my toes as I realized I hadn’t made it in time to change whatever script Thompson had given the announcer to introduce Agri-Corp as the sponsor. Dang it. I’d need to get started on the next rodeo script before it was too late.
“Before we turn those chutes inside out and let those bulls wreak some havoc, let’s hear it for the people who make this whole show possible.
A huge thank you to the wranglers, the volunteers, and every one of you wonderful people who moved heaven and earth to bring us this amazin’ show.
And, folks, let’s give a special welcome to our title sponsor this year, Agri-Corp! ”
Here we go. I crossed my fingers behind my back.
“Agri-Corp! The place to…” he was reading whatever paper he was given, “…to get your agriculture equipment.”
Lame. Awful. Just bad. I shook my head.
A few scattered claps were all we got.
I had so much work to do.
“Now, it’s time to settle down for just a moment.
I ask you to remove your hats and bow your head with me as we say a prayer for the cowboys and girls in this rodeo tonight.
” He quieted himself. “Our gracious Lord, we are grateful for the many blessings you have bestowed on us this Friday night. We ask that you let us compete tonight with safety for ourselves and for our animals.”
I was amazed at the silence in the arena.
“Help us compete in this life as honestly as the horses we ride. We ask that we may help those in need, guide those who are blind, and enjoy a clean, beautiful night in the exquisite country we live in. We ask these things in humbleness and thank you for the opportunity to gather. Amen.”
The crowd echoed an “amen.”
“Now, I ask you to turn your eyes to the center of the arena. Cowboys and Cowgirls, there’s no better feeling than being free in this country we are so privileged to call home.
As we honor the greatest flag that’s ever flown, I ask you to stand, remove your hats, and remember the heroes who made this evening of freedom possible.
Ellie Nash, the stage is yours, darlin’. ”
The cutest little girl I’d ever seen, in a white dress, denim jacket, and tiny cowboy hat, made her way to the middle, holding a microphone. She couldn’t have been older than six.
Cowgirls on horses circled her, holding the American flag.
She opened her mouth to sing the Star Spangled Banner, and every note soared out with perfect pitch–acapella with humble confidence.
Her high note when she sang “free” floored me.
Tears filled my eyes as I held my hand over my heart and couldn’t believe the talent I was witnessing.
She held the final note out as long as she could, and the audience cheered loud and strong, just what she deserved.
“And with that, ladies and gentlemen, THE NATIONAL RODEO TOUR IS LIVE! Get ready to ride!”
I shook my head, wiping away an escaped tear, and forced myself to focus.
I had made it to the first rodeo, the moment I had been dreading since Mr. Sterling’s office. It was time to be the professional Allegra. No thinking about the smell of the dirt and animals, no wanting to hop on the fence and cheer just as loudly as the crowd, and no thoughts of the past.
Otherwise, I’d fail this project before I’d even start.
The cowboys behind me were warming up, throwing ropes, and stretching their muscles.
Others were tucking in their shirts and putting on vests.
Stock handlers were throwing animals into the chutes, making them angry, just the way they wanted them to be.
Dirt was flying everywhere, between the ropes hitting the ground and the animals kicking their feet.
My white pants didn’t stand a chance. I looked down as they turned from brilliant white to hazy brown.
A nearby horse whinnied and made my heart thump violently.
I grabbed the top of my shirt and shook it, trying to get myself some air. Memories were beginning to flash through my mind. The noises, the smells, the dirt under my shoes, nothing had changed at all.
The start of a new, incredibly loud song took me out of my thoughts. I brought myself back to the present and forced myself to watch the cowboys swing a rope around a fake cow. I thought back to my presentation.
Authenticity through storytelling. We needed videos of the real rodeo stars using Agri-Corp supplies and equipment. I took a few pictures and videos of them with my phone. We needed to hire a professional photographer and videographer as soon as possible.
“Settle into your seats, hold on to your hats, and get ready for eight seconds of pure adrenaline! We are going to kick off the competition with the bareback bronc ring! We’ve got a slate of cowboys ready to dance with the meanest horses in the state, but tonight, we’re starting with a fan favorite! ”
I turned my attention to the chutes.
A cowboy was climbing on a black horse. I stared from behind the chaos. He was tall, even before he slid on a straw hat, his dark brown hair sticking out the back. He tucked his hand under the strap, giving it a few squeezes.
“Standing tall atop Chute Number Three, he’s an Oklahoma native-born with a rope in his hand and determination in his heart. He’s a third-generation cowboy, you better cheer him loud, cheer him proud, give it up for regional champion, Colton Nash!”
Nash? As in Dennis Nash? Suddenly, Dennis’ shirt made that much more sense.
The cowboy straightened himself, taking a long breath.
“He’s squarin’ off against a horse that makes even the toughest men scared, Wrecking Ball! Is Colton Nash ready? IS THE WRECKING BALL READY? Are YOU ready, Glendale! Let’s get it!”
The cowboy nodded at his team, and the gates swung open.
Like a child, I couldn’t help but run to the fence and jump on the first bar. I leaned over as far as I could, desperate to see every second.
He lifted his legs against the horse’s shoulder and leaned back, his left hand held high.
They weren’t kidding about the horse, though.
It threw itself as hard and violently as it could, doing anything to get him off.
The cowboy was strong, his body jerking brutally.
His hat came flying off, landing at my feet below the gate.
His hair was flying. I could see the sweat land in the dirt. It was beautifully terrifying. The horse jumped and kicked all at once, but the cowboy held tight. The buzzer sounded, making me jump in surprise.
The pick-up men swung by as fast as they could and snagged the man off the bucking horse. He landed on the dirt gracefully and shook his hair away from his face, his back facing me as he raised his hands in celebration. The crowd got to their feet and screamed for him.
I had to admit, he deserved it. That was a tough ride, and he nailed it.
He came to a dead stop in the center of the arena, letting the dust settle around his boots as he took in the roar of the stands.
Then, with a sharp, practiced precision, he tapped the top of his head twice with two fingers, a crisp, silent salute, before flicking the gesture toward the front row with an effortless grace that sent the crowd into a frenzy.
Gently stepping off the fence, I picked up the straw hat and brushed the dirt off it. The cowboy had turned around and was walking back to the chutes.
“Excuse me, Mr. Nash?”
“Interviews are after the section, ma’am. Give us just a minute,” he replied with a thick accent, not looking up.
“Your hat, Mr. Nash.”
He looked up, and it was all I could do to keep my jaw closed.
That cowboy was gorgeous.
He was dripping with sweat, causing a few strands of chestnut brown hair to stick to his forehead. He was tall and muscular to divine perfection.
Half jogging, he ran to the fence and stopped in front of me. He reached out, and I slowly put the hat in his hand. His green eyes looked up and caught mine, staring into my soul. It was as if the rest of the world faded away, becoming silent and blurry, and all I could see was him
He smiled, and the dimple in his left cheek made me want to melt in his rigid arms. “Thank you, ma’am.”
I swallowed, even though my mouth was bone dry. “That was an amazing ride.”
He smiled even wider. “I appreciate that, ma’am. Thanks for coming out to watch.”
“You’re welcome.”
We were both still holding on to the hat, neither of us making a move to give or take. I could feel heat rising to my cheeks. He smelled like a man, sweaty and intense.
Finally, the sound of the announcer clearing his throat snapped us out of our trance. I let go of the hat.
“Eighty-Five points for our regional champion! Let’s hear it for Colton Nash, folks!”
Colton looked back at the replay of his ride and put his hat back on his messy hair.
“Congratulations,” I said, barely able to hear myself over the crowd.
He turned back to me, smiling again. “Thank you, ma’am.” He finally nodded and started walking away, turning to the crowd and pumping his fists, egging them on.
I thought of the woman on the plane, with her champagne glass, giving a shiver.
She was right about the rodeo: sweaty men, adrenaline pumping, the sounds, the smells.
It was driving me mad.