Two Sides of the Same Coin (20 page)

Sandy blew the whistle and yelled, “Thirty-two seconds!” Maria had caught Charlie. I walked across the corral and jumped up on him. I rode him to the side gate. Mike was already there on his horse, Thundercloud. We changed places, and it was my turn to open the gate. I tied Charlie to the rail, and took hold of the gate.

Mike looked at me and said, “Prepare to be shown up, Jeffy.”

“In your dreams there, buddy!” I began to sing, “Seat in the saddle and hand on the horn, I’m the best danged cowboy ever was born,” Mike joined in on the chorus, “Whopee tie yai yippie ai ay, whoopee tie yai yippie ay ai!”

We both laughed, and then Mike yelled, “Pull!”

I opened the gate and out ran the steer. Mike was good, no denying it. He pulled up next to the steer, stood up and jumped right on the steer’s back. He grabbed its horns and let himself fall to one side. The steer fought against him and stood there. Mike scooted back twisting the steer’s head around and used his legs to knock its hind leg out from under it. The steer fell on its side. Mike had to pull it over to make all four hooves go up in the air.

Sandy blew her whistle and yelled, “Forty-seven seconds!” I rode up next to Mike and clapped him on the back.

“That was pretty cool how you jumped on the steer buddy.” He raised his hand for a high five again and we slapped palms.

“Thank ya kindly, Jeffy.”

We each had two more rounds. On my second, the steer got away from me, so I didn’t get any time. Mike had thirty-five seconds. My third try was thirty-eight seconds, and Mike wasn’t able to hold on to the steer that time. We rode the horses over to one of the holding pens and left ’em there. We walked over to the benches and jumped the corral fence together.

“So what’d ya think, buckaroo?” Harrison couldn’t take his eyes off of me and Mike.

“That was real good, Uncle Jeff. I wanna be a cowboy just like you when I grow up.”

“And I’m gonna be a cowgirl!” Lisa piped up.

“Everyone havin’ fun?” Mike was lookin’ at the group. There was a whole chorus of yeses.

“I figure Mike and I are gonna take a few minutes rest, then we’ll do some steer ridin’ and some bronc bustin’. Then Sandy and I are gonna do some stake racin’ with Lisa and Harrison, if that’s okay.” Ann and Tom nodded.

Tom said, “Sandy explained it to us, and Lisa and Harrison are really excited.”

“Great. Mike, let’s get some water from the cooler.” We dusted ourselves off, ambled over to the cooler, and got a couple of bottles of water.

“How ya doin’?”

“I’m havin’ a great time, Jeff.”

“Me too.” We smiled at each other, and walked back to everyone.

“You havin’ fun, Harrison? Lisa?” Both piped up yes right away.

“I hope we’re not borin’ the rest of ya?” I could hear “not at all, no, this is great,” and other good comments, so I thought we were in pretty good shape.

I looked at the group. It seemed everyone was having a real good time. Jonathan said to us, “You guys are real adrenaline junkies. Where’d you learn to rope and ride like that?”

“Me, I grew up with it. I’ve been doing this type of stuff since I was a little guy just about buckaroo here’s age.” I looked down at Harrison.

He piped up, “Will you teach me to ride, Uncle Jeff?”

“I figure if it’s okay with your mom and dad, we can get both you and Lisa on a horse, a nice gentle one that’s used to riders just startin’ off.”

Tom laughed and said, “I’m not going to say no to that. I’d never hear the end of it.” We all laughed.

“What about you, Mike, where did you learn to ride, rope, and do that kind of stuff?”

“When I got out on my own, I ended up in San Francisco. I was what they called ‘youth at risk’, and I was lucky enough to get into a program where I was adopted by one of the police stations, which had an equestrian unit. They needed a stable boy to help with the horses, and I did that. Some of the officers were weekend cowboys, and they taught me how to ride and rope. A couple of ’em volunteered at a camp for youth at risk with horses on the east side of the Sierra. They brought to the camp on weekends and vacations. I loved the camp and went every time I had the chance. I kept practicin’ until I got good enough to get a job cowboyin’. I worked at a couple of outfits in California, Nevada, and Oregon. Then I came out here, met Jeff’s dad, and got hired at the Lucky Jeff.”

I’d never known that part of Mike’s past. I had assumed he had to sell himself like many street kids did. He was pretty lucky that San Francisco has programs like the Youth at Risk program.

Ann said, “So you decided to be a cowboy when you grew up, and here you are. Ranch life seems to fit you both.”

“Given what coulda happened to me, I guess I’m pretty lucky, and doubly so since I got friends like Jeffy, Sandy, and Maria.” He clapped me on the back, and Maria and Sandy both reached over; Sandy patted him on the knee, and Maria patted him on the shoulder.

Tom jumped in and said, “It’s obvious you are all very good friends, and a really good group of young people to do this for us. I can’t tell you how much we appreciate it.”

“Hey, our pleasure; you ready, buddy, let’s rodeo!” Mike jumped up, and he and Maria began walking to the holding chutes.

“Next up is steer ridin’. Mike and me are gonna get on the back of a mean, wild steer. Maria’s gonna pull open the gate and let the steer do his best to buck us off. Whichever one of us who’s not ridin’ is gonna be the pick up man.

“What’s a pick up man?” Jonathan was the one who asked the question, but everyone else had a curious look in their eyes.

“Say I’m the one buckin’ and Mike is the pick up man. When Sandy blows the whistle for time, if I’m still on the steer’s back, Mike’ll ride up to me and help me jump off the steer and onto his horse. I’ll do the same for him when he’s buckin’. Is everybody ready?”

Harrison screamed out, “Yes!”

I headed off to the corral. Mike and Maria had got a steer into the holding chute and had gotten a rope around it, right behind the front legs. I’d hold on to the rope with one hand while buckin’. If my other hand touched the rope or steer, I’d be disqualified.

“You gonna buck first, Jeffy, or you want me to?”

“I’ll go; someone’s gotta show you how it’s done!” I grabbed my gloves and winked at him.

He laughed and answered me back, “We’ll see if you’re still that cocky after your first ride.”

“I ain’t cocky, just honest.” By this time I’d gotten on the steer, got my gloves on, and grabbed the rope. I moved around until I felt settled in, and my hand was firm on the rope, but loose enough to let go and not get caught if I didn’t cover.

Mike looked at me, and I nodded. He really quick-like kissed me on the cheek and said, “Have a good ride, cowboy.” Then he went, untied his horse, mounted up, and trotted out into the corral.

The steer I was sitting on wasn’t happy, and he kept banging against the sides of the chute. I knew my legs and knees would be all bruised up, but I reckoned I’d have plenty more bruises before the day was done. Maria was looking at me, holding the gate, and waiting for my okay to open the chute. I took a deep breath, felt the adrenaline course through me, and yelled, “Pull!”

Maria pulled and the gate swung open. The steer ran out into the corral and began bucking. Now was the critical time. I had to get the book on the steer and get it quick. The book on the steer is the pattern in which he moves and bucks to try and get the rider off his back. Most steers and bulls buck in a pattern or a book. The really tough ones don’t have a pattern, which makes it three times as hard, because you don’t have that little half second of warning to know what to do to balance yourself. Time around me seemed to slow down, and my senses were intensified. I could smell the dirt, the steer, the cow shit, and my own adrenaline stoked sweat. The world was going by in a blur, but it seemed like slow motion. I kicked at the steer a few times to get him to keep bucking and give a good show. My right hand was high in the air, for balance, and my left held tight to the rope. I was getting thrown around something fierce, but between my left hand on the rope and my knees on the steer’s back, I was hanging on. I guessed I was in pretty good form, too, but nobody here other than Mike, Sandy, and Maria would notice if I wasn’t. I heard, as if from a great distance, Sandy’s whistle. I’d covered! Meaning, I’d stayed on and not touched the steer or rope with my right hand. Time seemed to come back to normal, and I looked around for Mike. In a flash, he was next to me. I leaned over when the bull was about to buck in his direction. I grabbed the saddle horn with my left hand, letting go of the rope. Mike reached back with his right arm; I grabbed it with my right and pulled up behind him. I grabbed my hat with my right hand and waved it above me. My left arm was tight around Mike, and just for fun I found and pinched one of his nipples. He brought the horse over to the corral near the chutes, and I jumped off.

He grinned at me and said, “Good ride, cowboy!” I smiled my thanks at him.

“You ready to ride now, buddy?”

“Yep, somebody’s got to show you up!”

“In your dreams!” He tied his horse near the chute, and we headed over. It took a few minutes to get the rope around the next steer. Mike climbed up the fence and settled himself on the steer.

“Can I use your gloves, Jeffy? Mine are in the bunkhouse.”

“Sure.” I pulled them off and handed them to him. He put them on. It always amazed me that in the gay rodeo, some first-timers will try to do events without gloves. That’s where most of the injuries in gay rodeo come from, rope burn. While I was thinking about the rodeo, we got Mike all settled on the steer.

“Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need luck; you’re good.” I clapped him on the back. “Besides, you already got good luck. You got me.” I jumped down, ran over to Mike’s horse, and mounted up.

Maria nodded at him, and he yelled, “Pull!”

The steer trotted out of the shoot and began to buck halfheartedly. Mike was having no trouble staying on. I could hear Sandy laughing, and then she yelled, “What did ya do, Mike, sweet-talk the steer so it wouldn’t buck?” Mike kicked at the steer, which just stood there. Maria and I both started laughing.

“Did you look at the steer with big cow eyes, Mike, like you look at some others?” Maria laughed and looked at me when she said “some others.”

Mike laughed along with us and swatted the steer on the backside with his free hand and yelled, “Roast beef! Hamburger! Steak!” He finally jumped off the steer. By this time everyone was laughing.

I rode over to him and said soft enough that no one else could hear, “Hell, buddy, I was lookin’ forward to pickin’ you up! I didn’t get that cute ass of yours in the saddle.” I took my right foot outta the stirrup and held out my hand. He stepped up into the stirrup and grabbed my hand. I put the horse into a trot, and we went around the corral. We each did two more steers. None stopped and just stood there like Mike’s first. I didn’t cover the second time and landed flat on my ass in the soft dirt. Mike laughed at me, but then the tables turned when he got bucked off on his third steer. We were having a great time, and so was everyone else. Mike and I were covered in dust. We shook off, and Maria moved the horse into the chute.

“Okay, next what we are gonna do is some bareback bronc ridin’.” Harrison jumped up and started clapping, and Lisa mimicked him. “Since we only got one bronc that’s not saddle broke, I’m gonna do the ridin’, and Mike’s gonna be my pick-up man. Then I figured after I tire that bronc out, we’d put him out to pasture and let you two junior buckaroos do some ridin’. Sound like a plan?” Harrison and Lisa both screamed happily and ran over and hugged my legs again. Mike had already put a rope around the bronc, and Maria had moved him into the chute. I went over, climbed up the rail, and mounted the horse. He started carrying on immediately. It was going to be a good ride! I got my gloves back from Mike, got situated, and yelled, “Pull!”

The gate opened, and I entered that surreal, adrenaline-fueled world where time doesn’t seem to follow normal rules and you don’t feel how much you’re gettin’ shook up until the ride is done. This time I wasn’t so lucky, and felt myself flying through the air. I landed on the soft dirt, a bit shook up, but no worse for the wear. Mike trotted over, and I got up in the saddle behind him. His horse was well-trained and got right next to the bronc. I leaned over, grabbed the rope, and jumped on his back. He began bucking real hard, but I was ready. This time I stayed on. It must have been about ten minutes I held on and got the stuffing jarred out of me. After about five or six minutes, the bronc was slowing down. I nudged him with my boots, and he started bucking harder. Finally, he was tired out. He settled down and just stood there. I reached over and gently pulled his upper mane to the right and tapped his flanks with my heels. He moved to the right. I got him to walk around the corral. I finally jumped down. Maria appeared behind me with a couple of carrots and an apple. I took them, and with a quick thanks to her, began patting the bronc’s neck. I was talking all low and soothing in his ear. I put a carrot in front of his nose. He sniffed and then took it. I continued until he had eaten the other carrot and the apple. I led him over to the holding pen and put him in there. I turned and began to walk over to the side of the corral.

“And that, buckaroo, is how ya bust a wild bronc!”

“Do we get to ride now, Uncle Jeff?”

“You sure do.” Mike had saddled up several of the horses with Maria’s help.

Sandy had rolled two barrels out into the corral and placed them on opposite sides of the corral. She put a pole at a third end of the corral forming a triangle. Maria placed two five-gallon buckets filled with sand on top of the barrels, one on each. Sandy stepped up and explained what was gonna happen. I was too busy gulping down some water and stretching out on a bench.

“This event here is called stake racin’. Maria, me, Mike, and Jeff are gonna show you how it’s done, and then we are gonna ride with you two junior buckaroos. Sound okay?” A chorus of yes answered her. Maria was by the open gate to the corral. Mike ran over and put a stake with a plastic flag attached to it in the first bucket of sand. Maria leaned forward, swatted her horse with the reins and began a gallop. She ran straight for the stake in the bucket of sand and pulled it up quickly without slowing down. The sand bucket wobbled but stayed up. She galloped around the pole and then stuck the stake in the other sand bucket. She then slowed her horse. Mike was back with us, and he continued as Sandy ran over to her horse.