Rodeo Rider (6 page)

“Doesn’t the arena look wonderful?” Kate asked, almost breathlessly.

Stevie glanced at Kate. It was odd that she should say that, because that was exactly the same way Stevie felt. But Kate had been a national championship rider, competing in the most prestigious horse shows in the country. She must have seen hundreds of horse shows set up in fields. Why would this be any different? What would make it wonderful? There was only one possible answer: It was
rodeo.

Rodeos were different. They weren’t the stylized, elegant riding of perfectly groomed horses, manicured hooves, or polished saddles, with horses flying effortlessly over jumps, or showing off their perfect
gaits around a ring in a preset pattern. Rodeo was wild and dusty and fast and furious. It was bronco bucking, bull riding, rope twirling, hell-bent-for-leather excitement and romance rolled into one. Stevie’s heart beat faster at the thought.

“Let’s go!” she cried out to her friends. And, following her lead, they all galloped toward the town.

They had to cool down their horses before they could go to the restaurant. It was a good chance to get a closer look at the rodeo, and they had their horses circle it at a walk.

Some workers were assembling the final seats in the grandstand, while others completed the bunting. A few horses eyed their activity skeptically from one of the temporary corrals. Everywhere Stevie looked, something was going on.

All these strangers were working busily at one thing or another. Then it turned out that not all of them were strangers.

“Hi there, dudes!”

It was Eli. He was just coming out of a tent. A lot of wranglers seemed to be standing in a line ouside it waiting to go in.

“What are
you
doing here?” Stevie asked.

“I just registered for my events,” he explained. “I’m heading back to the ranch now. I’ll see you girls later.”

He waved cheerfully and left them by the line of rodeo cowboys.

Stevie looked over the crowd. The young men who were lined up looked strong and healthy and outdoorsy.
They were tanned from the strong southwestern sun. They seemed to come in all sizes and shapes. Stevie realized with a start that there were girls their own age on the line with the men.

“What are those girls doing there?” Stevie blurted out. “I mean, I’m all in favor of equality, but I can’t see a girl doing any steer wrestling!”

There was loud guffawing in response to her question. Stevie hadn’t meant the question to be heard by everybody, but her surprise had made her talk louder than she’d intended.

“Those are the barrel-racing teams,” one of the cowboys informed her.

Stevie looked at her friends. They seemed as embarrassed as she was.

She walked Stewball over closer to the cowboy who had spoken, so the whole world wouldn’t listen in on her next question. “You mean girls compete in the rodeo, too?”

The cowboy nodded. “Yep,” he said. “At this rodeo, it’s an under-eighteen event, too, as you may be able to tell.”

Stevie had the sneaking suspicion that he was trying not to laugh. She didn’t care, much.

“Hmmm,” Stevie mused.

“Come on, guys. I’m starving,” Kate said. “Let’s get some food.”

Stevie’s mind began to race, and she knew what that meant. First, when it began with an idea there was no
stopping it. And second, when it stopped, there was no telling what she would end up doing.

“Uh, wait up a second,” Stevie said. “I just got an idea.”

She and Stewball rejoined the group.

Carole recognized the look in Stevie’s eye. Sometimes it meant trouble, but it also meant fun. “Is this a Saddle Club meeting?” she asked.

Stevie nodded. Carole thought she knew what was coming. She glanced at the others. It looked like they all knew what Stevie was thinking. Wordlessly, the five girls formed a circle so they could talk in some privacy.

“I didn’t know, did you?” Stevie asked Kate.

“I’ve never been to a rodeo before,” Kate told her.

“Me, neither,” Christine admitted. “After all, my ancestors weren’t the cowboys.” The girls giggled at Christine’s joke.

“So?” Stevie asked.

“I say we do it,” Carole stated, casting her vote.

“Me, too,” Lisa agreed, and Kate and Christine added their approval.

“Then it’s unanimous!” Stevie exclaimed. “Let’s go!”

F
OOD
WAS
DELAYED
for a half hour while The Saddle Club registered for the barrel-racing event in the rodeo.

“Name?” the woman behind the desk asked.

“Stephanie, but I’m called Stevie,” she answered promptly. “And this is …”

“Not your name, your
team
name,” the woman said,
more sharply than Stevie thought was necessary. She suspected the woman thought they ought to be called The Fools.

Stevie looked at her friends. The obvious answer was The Saddle Club, but that wasn’t quite right. They were doing this to have fun, of course, but mostly, they wanted to help publicize The Bar None.

Stevie snapped her fingers. “The Bar None Riders!” she answered. Smiles from her friends confirmed their approval.

“Twenty-five dollars, please,” the woman said. The girls looked at each other. This, they hadn’t expected.

“Money?” Stevie said, realizing afterward how dumb the question sounded.

The woman nodded.

The girls dug down into their pockets and pooled their resources. Stevie could see people behind them in the line snickering.

Bills and coins appeared on the desk. Lisa, the straight-A student, took charge of counting up the cash. “Twenty-four dollars and eighty-three cents,” she announced at last.

The woman at the table shook her head. “Twenty-
five
dollars,” she reminded the girls, as if they needed reminding.

“Can we owe it to you?” Stevie asked. Since her usual cash position was negative, she was used to owing people money.

“Twenty-five dollars,” the woman said steadily.

“Here you go, girls,” the cowboy behind them said,
putting seventeen cents on the table. “I’m more than pleased to contribute to your team. I wouldn’t miss your performance in the ring for anything—if your performance in the registration tent is any indication of things to come!”

Everybody within earshot hooted with laughter. Stevie could feel herself blushing from head to toe. The woman behind the desk just counted the money.

“Here are your numbers and your instructions,” she said when she’d put the cash in her strong box. She gave the package to Christine.

They were in!

L
UNCH
WAS
OUT
of the question, since they’d spent every penny they had on entering the rodeo. The rodeo supplied some hay and water for their horses, but nothing for the girls. Stomachs growling, they walked their horses back out of town toward The Bar None.

“This is so exciting!” Lisa exclaimed.

“Imagine, the first rodeo we’ve ever been to and we’re even going to be
in
it!” Carole exulted.

“Well, according to this stuff from the package, we’re even going to be in the rodeo parade,” Christine told them, looking up from a booklet.

“Wow!” Lisa said.

“Aren’t you excited?” Kate asked Stevie. “I mean, you look so serious.”

“Oh, sure I’m excited,” Stevie said. “Who wouldn’t be? Only, there are two things bothering me.”

“So, what are they?” Carole asked.

“Well, first, we want to do our best anyway, but since we’re called The Bar None Riders, our best has to be
the
best.”

“Of course,” Kate said. “We all know that. So what’s the second thing on your mind?”

“This one’s a little trickier,” Stevie said. She hesitated, stalling for time. Her friends waited expectantly. Finally, she blurted it out.

“What’s barrel racing?”

“I
MEAN
,
REALLY
, how do you race barrels?” Stevie asked.

The five girls were seated around the cook’s table in the kitchen at The Bar None, munching on cold chicken, which Kate had found in the refrigerator. The chicken tasted wonderful, although they were so hungry by then that they would have eaten cactus!

“Maybe one person rolls it and another rides on horseback and races the roller?” Lisa suggested. “Nah, that’s stupid,” she said, answering her own question before her friends answered it for her.

“Some kind of relay race?” Carole said.

“Probably,” Kate agreed. “After all, we’re a team. Teams do relay races.”

“We’re good at relay races,” Stevie said. “Remember the gymkhana?”

They all remembered it well, and they told Christine about it. With Kate’s help, The Saddle Club had come in first in the gymkhana at Pine Hollow’s horse show in the summer.

“But somehow, I don’t think a barrel race will involve squirt guns and clown costumes,” Kate remarked.

“Well, there must be something here.…” Christine thumbed through the material they’d gotten at registration. “Ah! Here it is. It says: ‘Barrel-racing teams will be judged on performance as a whole, competing against all other teams. The final score will be the total of the four best scores on the team. In addition to a winning team, the single best score of the event will receive an individual event championship prize.’ ”

“Good,” Lisa said. “So if I blow it, it won’t hurt you guys—or The Bar None.”

“Nobody’s going to blow it,” Carole assured her. “But we still don’t know what ‘it’ is.”

Then somebody came to their rescue. It was Eli, coming in from the barn.

“Gosh, I’m hungry,” he declared as he entered the kitchen and washed his hands at the sink.

“We’ll share our chicken if you’ll share information,”
Stevie said, holding a chicken leg in front of him tantalizingly.

Kate lifted a bowl of chips and fanned the wonderful greasy potato odor toward his nose to tempt him. “All this could be yours,” she said, sounding like an announcer on a game show. “Plus a glass of milk—if you know the answer!”

Eli took off his hat and pulled up a chair. “For lunch, I’ll tell you anything.”

“
And
promise not to laugh at us,” Stevie said solemnly.

Eli pushed his chair back from the table and began to stand up. “That’s more ’n ah kin guarantee,” he said, exaggerating his western drawl. “Sometahmes ah jes’ cain’t hep layfin’ at the antics of
dudes.
”

“Come on, guys. We’re at his mercy,” Lisa said. “What have we got to lose?”

“You mean he’s got us over a barrel race?” Stevie suggested. Her friends groaned at the pun.

Eli sat down again. Christine produced a plate. Lisa handed him a napkin. Stevie gave him some chicken. Kate put potato chips on his plate. Carole poured the milk and spoke for them all.

“What’s barrel racing?” she asked.

Eli stopped eating and looked at the girls strangely. “I’d be glad to tell you all about it,” he said. “Why would you think I’d laugh at you for not knowing about it? I know you don’t know anything about rodeos. Why should I expect you to know anything about barrel racing?” He took a drink of milk.

Everybody looked at Stevie to answer that one. After all, it had been her idea in the first place. Stevie cleared her throat. “Because we haven’t told you the best part yet. You’re having lunch with The Bar None Riders, officially registered for barrel racing in the Two Mile Creek Rodeo.”

For a second, Eli just looked at the five girls. Then it happened, just like they’d thought it would. Eli’s shoulders began shaking. His face reddened as he fought to swallow the milk before the laughter took over his whole body. Finally, when the milk was safely downed, he began roaring.

Kate put her hands on her hips. “You promised!” she said. “And besides, what’s so funny?”

Eli’s laughter subsided. “Oh, nothin’,” he said, wiping his eyes. “Nothin’s funny. It’s just that—” He was about to laugh some more, but controlled it this time.

“I don’t think it’s so strange that you should want to try your hands at barrel racing,” Eli sputtered. “As a matter of fact, you’ll probably do okay. I just think it’s funny that you’d sign up for it without … without … I mean before …”

“Stop laughing and tell us what it is,” Stevie commanded in her best no-nonsense-manner.

Eli caught his breath and began. “It’s a race around three barrels. They’re in a big triangle. When the bell sounds, you gallop straight into the ring, so you’ve got one barrel to your right, one to the left, and one straight ahead. You make a sharp right and do a right turn around the first barrel, head back to the one that
was to your left, make a left turn around that, go for the far barrel, circle that left and return to the starting line.”

“Wow! That’s simple!” Stevie said brightly.

“Doing the event’s easy. Winning it is hard,” Eli said, correcting her. “Now that’s all the time I’ve got for chitchat,” he said, pushing his chair back. “I’ve got some more practicing to do.” He put on his hat, touched his brim to bid the girls good-bye, and left the kitchen.

“Maybe we should practice, too,” Christine suggested.

“Couldn’t hurt,” Stevie added.

“Y
EOUCH
!”
S
TEVIE
HOWLED
a half hour later. Practice, it turned out, could hurt a lot! She had just flown out of Stewball’s saddle and landed unceremoniously on her backside. “Watch out for the corners, guys!”