The Ride

The smug expression on the weathered face of the cowboy standing before me brought forth a driving force I didn’t know I possessed. As I turned to look at the massive ugly beast staring back through the fence I hesitated for a mere second before brazenly announcing my intent. My true objective was to have this six foot bull-monster kick the smirk right back into the cattleman’s sunburned ears as he observed me easily surpass the four second challenge he presented.

How hard could it be? I thought, recalling the vast number of summer afternoons I had sat watching through the kitchen window of my uncle’s ranch house, the stripes of the light sheers billowing in the breeze; each of the ranch hands taking turns, seeing who would last the longest.

With my target clearly in sight, I climbed over the fence of the enclosure, stubbornly refusing the offered assistance. He held the gate closed, grinning, as ice blue eyes watched me take the reins and place myself somewhat unsteady on the grunting bull.

I focused on the rope; hand secure; arm bent, instead of looking at the thousand pound death-trap that wanted me off its back before we even began.

As I looked up at the cowboy our eyes locked. I nodded. The gate opened.

I’m not sure if I will ever remember the three and a half seconds that followed but as I was coming back around the doctor was just putting the finishing touches on the cast that my right arm now wore.

I looked up at the ranch-hand with some trepidation as he smiled and presented me with the belt buckle he had won bull riding back in ninety-four.

“Congratulations cow-girl, you did it.”