“You love the cowboys,” Charlie Grace teased.
“It’s something, isn’t it?” Capri responded, her voice tinged with teasing. “Men in tight jeans.”
As they settled in, the smell of sawdust became more pronounced, mixing with the tangy scent of barbecue from a nearby vendor.
The announcer’s voice boomed through the loudspeakers, inviting everyone to stand for the opening ceremony. The arena immediately quieted down, anticipation hanging in the air.
Suddenly, the gates swung open, and a female rider burst into the arena at a gallop, carrying the United States flag. The flag billowed magnificently behind her as she guided her horse in a swift, graceful lap around the perimeter of the arena. The horse, a stunning specimen with a glossy coat, moved with precision and pride, its hooves kicking up clouds of dust in perfect rhythm.
The crowd immediately placed their hands over hearts, some holding their cowboy hats against their chests, as the rider directed her horse through elegant loops and swift turns, showcasing both the animal’s training and her own riding prowess. The flag waved dramatically, catching the light of the afternoon sun.
Lila joined the crowd as everyone sang the national anthem. To her right, a gray-haired man bellowed the words as tears formed in his eyes. She nudged Charlie Grace with her elbow and pointed him out.
Charlie Grace leaned close. “I never tire of this part.”
As the rider completed the circuit around the arena, she slowed her horse to a trot, passing in front of the grandstand where the cheers crescendo. With one final salute—a tip of her hat—the rider exited through the gates, leaving a lasting impression as the rodeo officially began.
“Did I ever tell you guys about the year Camille was bound and determined she wanted to grow up and be a cowgirl? She begged for a horse,” Lila told them. “Which I couldn’t afford, of course.”
Charlie Grace chuckled. “I remember. So, you brought her out to the ranch and let her ride. For hours.”
“And hours,” Lila said, completing her friend’s comment. “Thank goodness she grew out of that phase. It wasn’t long before she turned in her cowboy hat and rodeo dreams for that old guitar Clancy gave her. She stood on the back patio and plunked that thing, pretending to be a music star.”
“The next Reba McEntire?” Charlie Grace asked.
Lila shook her head. “Avril Lavigne.”
They turned their attention to the gate as a rider entered the arena. The cowgirl quickly accelerated her horse towards the first of three barrels arranged in a triangular pattern. Approaching the first barrel, she expertly pulled on the reins, guiding her horse into a sharp, tight turn around the barrel. The horse pivoted on its hind legs, almost hugging the barrel with its body.
Next, the rider urged her horse into a swift sprint towards the second barrel. As they reached it, she leaned deeply into the turn, her body nearly parallel to the ground, maintaining a delicate balance as her horse executed another rapid, close turn. The precision required was immense, as any misstep could knock over the barrel, resulting in penalties.
With two barrels done, they dashed towards the third, the dust kicking up beneath the horse’s hooves. The final turn mirrored the first two, but with added urgency, as this marked the final stretch. The rider and her horse whipped around the third barrel with impressive coordination and burst toward the finish line in a full, exhilarating sprint.
The crowd cheered.
Several more barrel racers made their runs. When the event finished, Charlie Grace pointed in the direction of the concession stand. “You girls want a hot dog?”
“Yes, I’m starving.” Capri dug in her back pocket for her wallet.
Charlie Grace shook her head. “I got it.” She turned to Lila. “You want something?”
“I’d donate my next child for something cold to drink.”
That brought a laugh from Capri. “By the way, don’t bother getting a slice of their pizza. Last year, Reva said it tasted like a Western Horsemen catalog.”
“Noted,” Charlie Grace said, descending the stairs.
Capri held up a finger. “Wait, I’ll come, too. You can’t carry all that by yourself.” She raced to follow her friend, leaving Lila alone in the stands.
The first bull rider burst into the arena, clinging to a twisting, bucking beast. The crowd roared, and she joined in, swept up in the excitement.
“Go! Hold tight!” she shouted, standing up, her hands clenched in excitement.
“Eight seconds, that’s all he needs,” the gray-haired man next to her explained, his eyes fixed on the rider.
The buzzer sounded, and the rider was thrown off, landing in the dirt with a thud that drew a collective gasp from the spectators. Two rodeo clowns rushed to his side, but he got up, dusted himself off, and raised his hat to the cheering crowd.
Lila winced sympathetically. “That’s got to hurt.”
