Rider’s Block

7. Chapter Seven

Chapter seven

“Barefoot Blue Jean Night,” Jake Owen

A n “at home arena” isn’t something I’d expect to find in most places anyways, but the home arena on the Randall property? Next level.

I ride the short distance from the main house to the saddle barn with Christine, and she answers the field of questions I sling in her direction. She answers every question without hesitation, and I learn that this is a frequent summer night activity for the guys. Not all of them rodeo, but all of them enjoy the activity. I learn that there are specific “steers” used for roping (made the mistake of saying cow…she quickly corrected me and let me know that if I said that out loud in front of the guys they’d never forgive me) and that while sharing horses isn’t unheard of, everyone tends to have a favorite.

Christine’s favorite is a horse named Star, Trevor pipes in that his favorite is a horse named Boots, but the horse everyone fights over is Roper. He’s apparently the smartest horse on the property, but also a smart ass. But while he’s everyone’s favorite, he has a favorite human—and Roper’s favorite human is Eric.

And I find that extremely endearing, dammit.

A smart-ass horse loving a hard-ass human? I’m for sure going to steal that little anecdote for my book.

By the time we walk over everyone is already saddling up the horse of their choosing, and it doesn’t take me long to spot Eric, and by the way a horse is dutifully following him without a lead, I assume I’ve also spotted Roper. It’s adorable, actually. Eric moves to the left, Roper moves to the left. Eric shifts on his feet, Roper shifts on his feet. I’m trying not to stare, really, but watching Eric place the saddle on Roper is one of the more adorable things I’ve seen. And if I’m being honest with myself, it’s also wildly attractive. Eric’s shirt highlights every ripple of muscle in his back that he uses to lift the saddle on Roper’s back, and the way Eric constantly gives him an extra scratch behind the ear? Swoonable material right there.

I look around the area, and sure enough, they’ve attracted quite the audience. There are a few of the unattached girls watching intently as Eric gets his horse ready to go.

Thinking about the girls in the coffee shop this morning, I wonder if these girls fall into the same love-sick hope to pick up a Randall brother. Dean is concentrating on getting his horse ready, too, but he’s also flashing his debonair grin at the bundle of single girls… I would bet money Eric doesn’t know they’re even there.

Before that thought finishes fully developing in my brain, I see Eric shift his gaze in my direction. It’s a little unnerving, actually, how he always seems to know when I’m thinking of him. Not that I’m thinking of him a lot. No. That would be silly and a vast overexaggeration. I think about him a regular amount. The right amount really. I’m studying.

Our eyes meet for a solid two seconds, and I momentarily forget how to breathe. His gaze is so intense, I’m not sure what to do other than hold my own and not lose the staring contest I find myself in. Before I pass out from lack of oxygen, he’s back to tending to his needy horse, who I also notice is looking at me. Maybe that’s what triggered Eric to look in my direction?

Christine comes to stand beside me, and thankfully she doesn’t seem too put out from my constant questions, so I venture to add some more.

“So they’re just roping tonight? Do they practice any other events?”

“Mostly just roping,” Christine replies, looking out to spot her husband getting on his horse. It’s an impressively fluid motion I watch the rest of the guys replicate. “They’ll practice the other events more seriously, but this is more just for fun.”

“How long does this usually last?”

“Until a winner is denoted. Those three pig-headed brothers will stay out here until well past dark until they’ve crowned a victor. That’s why George added lights.” She motions to the lighting surrounding the arena I previously didn’t notice, and I brace myself for a long night ahead of me.

But I wasn’t prepared to be totally swooned by the agility of man and horse moving together as one. The fact that they could move as fast and precise as they did while handling a rope? Ridiculous. Ridiculously attractive. But the person I regrettably can’t take my eyes off of, naturally, is Eric. The way he and Roper move together as one unit is the most impressive thing I’ve ever seen. Christine spends all night telling me how to tell the good riders from the amateur ones. If you can see the cowboy bouncing, he isn’t doing it right. He has to ride with the horse, move with the horse, glide with the horse. There are a few guys who look like they’d get bounced right out of the saddle, and Christine explains all the ways that method is incorrect. I’d never realized how much effort actually went into riding a horse; I kind of assumed you’d just be along for the ride.

But Eric and Roper? They don’t miss. Not once.

Trevor and Dean are both great themselves, but there’s just something that sets Eric apart. It could be his broodiness, sure. It could possibly be the fact that his broodiness practically disappears when dealing with Roper. I could be mistaking his talent for his general attractiveness, but that’s not something I’d admit out loud anytime soon. And does my stomach somersault every time I watch his face slip into something that resembles pride? Yeah, a little.

By the time it gets dark and the lights turn on, it doesn’t look like anyone is slowing down, and Nancy shows up with dessert and beer for everyone watching. Settling in with a popsicle myself, I take the time to look around and see everyone reveling in the normalcy of what is considered fun around here.

I’m used to summer nights consisting of beach bonfires or watching movies, and while I still consider that an ideal way to spend a summer evening, this activity settles in pretty close to the top of my list. It’s community, it’s competition, it’s completely comfortable.

When I finally settle back into my cottage for the evening, it’s nearly midnight. No pair was deemed the “winner” since people kept switching partners too much, but the brothers were clearly set apart. Sure, it’s what they do for a living, but the fun that was tonight? There’s something special about electively choosing to have fun in the midst of what could be considered a daily chore. And tonight was fun . If they keep this up, they might not be able to get rid of me in a month, and I might actually just stay here all summer.

***

The rest of the week passes by in a blur of developing new routines. I spend my mornings going for a run or going back to Fort Collins to explore. If I’m in town, I’ll pop in to say hi to Penny. I spend the afternoons writing, and by the evening I’m making my way over to the main house for dinner.

Now that Nancy considers me a willing participant in getting dinner ready, I try to get there a little early to help her out more. I can tell she appreciates the extra hands, and I feel like I’m making steps to earn my keep.

Dinners are a rowdy affair every night, and I find myself actually looking forward to them. I love watching a group of people comfortable with each other enough for friendly banter, and this crew is tight. Not just the family, but the hired hands as well. It’s sweet, really.

It took me until day three to realize that one of my cottage neighbors was actually Eric. I don’t know who I assumed lived in this row of tiny homes, but I wasn’t expecting it to be him. If he sees me, he at least waves… which is better than flat-out ignoring me, sure. But our paths rarely cross, which is probably why it took me so long to realize he lives right next to me. He’s usually out of his cottage before I leave for my run, but since I write late into the night, I don’t delude myself into thinking I’ll wake up on rancher time.

I’ve made some significant changes to my book. I’m just a week in, and I already feel like I’ve made leaps and bounds into understanding the culture around me a bit better. But every rock I overturn reveals a few more questions. I’m dying to get to the rodeo tonight. Not only can I not wait to break out my red boots—which have been tucked away in my closet, mocking me—but I want to see what the event version of the “fun” is from what I’ve witnessed those two nights after dinner.

The guys have only roped one other time this week, and I got another front row seat to the fun.

Looking at the clock, I realize I only have an hour before I meet Christine and Nancy at the main house and we ride together to tonight’s event. The boys are already there, getting everything ready and settled. Apparently, this is a smaller rodeo, so it’s only a one-day event.

As much as I don’t want to admit it, I’ve been planning my outfit since I found out about the event in the first place. My red boots—obviously—my new jeans, a simple plain black box-cut T-shirt, my oversized denim jacket, and one of the pairs of earrings I bought. I’m still on the fence about wearing the cowboy hat, but I’ll bring it and ask Christine if I look like a poser as much as I feel like a poser.

It’s immersive learning. For literature. But I really, really don’t want to look like a yahoo.

I put the planned outfit on and check my appearance in the mirror. SoCal Amelia is gone, cowgirl Amelia is feeling a little weird… but also a little excited. The red boots are outside of my comfort zone in so many ways, but that just makes them feel right.

When I walk up to the main house, Christine catcalls and whistles from the front porch, and while I know she’s just a generally nice person, the compliment feels sincere.

“Well, look at you, cowgirl! At this rate we’ll get you on a horse in no time. Nancy!” she calls back behind her. “Come look at our little California friend all dressed up.”

Nancy appears in the front door and gives me an approving nod and puts a hand over her heart. “I knew you’d be a red cowgirl boots kind of gal, I just knew it.”

“Is that a thing?” I halt my steps, suddenly feeling a little insecure about the decision.

“Oh yeah,” Nancy says with a smile, “but it’s a great thing.”

We pile into the truck and make our way to the big arena. Having the backseat to myself, I put my cowboy hat on the seat next to me. I followed every one of Penny’s instructions putting it on; she’d be proud.

Christine goes into great detail filling me in on what the event looks like. We’re still getting there a little early, more so than standard admittance does, so that we can see the guys before we find our seats, and she promises to show me around behind the scenes.

The rodeo circuit apparently is a bit brutal. Long days, lots of driving, and according to Christine—a fair deal of pricks right alongside the standard chivalrous cowboys. I was more nervous about being around big animals, but Christine and Nancy both assure me the real mammals to be on the watch out for are the cowboys themselves.

“Some of them get a bit of a God complex,” Nancy says from the front seat. “It doesn’t help that women are constantly throwing themselves at them, or that they can wrestle a steer to the ground jumping off the top of a horse. That kind of confidence doesn’t always have the best translation to maintaining a small ego.”

“I’m sorry, did you say wrestling a steer ?” I don’t remember that event being on the list.

“It’s called Bulldogging,” Christine clarifies for me. “Thinking about it from your perspective, it probably is pretty wild.”

“You think?” I try, and fail, to hide the sarcasm in my voice.

We spend the rest of the time going over the different events, what all the Randall brothers are involved in, and the anticipation really starts to eat at me. I’m excited. I can’t help it. Christine and Nancy are clearly excited themselves, and I don’t know if it’s their enthusiasm or the newness of the event itself that has me impatient to get there, but luckily I don’t need to wait too long. We’re pulling into the parking and Christine spots their trailer in no time.

Trevor immediately drops what he’s doing to come greet her with a kiss, removing his cowboy hat to do so. I swoon a little bit. Nancy swoons a little bit. Dean hoots and hollers. Eric glances up and I watch as his eyes snag on my boots. He slowly takes in the rest of my outfit, but I can’t get a read on his facial expression. I know I’m a fish out of water, but I’m trying. Before I start physically squirming under his gaze, he goes back to whatever task he was on.

Christine pulls back with a blush fully set on her face, but her grin is undeniable. She looks to me a bit sheepishly before turning back to Trevor. “I told Amelia I’d show her around, is it okay if we head back there?”

“I better go with you,” Trevor says kindly, and to my surprise I see Eric set down the rope he was wrapping tape around.

“I’ll come too, it’s rowdy back there today.” He’s walking up to my side, and I know, logically, he’s not coming for me, but just the fact that I don’t have to be a third wheel makes me grateful for his inclusion.

Trevor leads the way, holding Christine’s hand, as we walk our way over to the arena, and it’s a medley of assaults to my senses.

There’s the typical low murmur of voices that happens with large crowds of people, but intermixed in the conversation there’s the commotion of animals. Horses, cattle…and I’m pretty sure I heard a sheep somewhere. Small vendor booths are lined up in specific alcoves selling everything from hats to saddles, women’s accessories, and light-up knickknacks that are presumably for the rodeo itself. And if I’d thought I’d gotten used to the smell of large farm animals, it’s nothing compared to what I’m experiencing now. It’s not bad, per se, more just… specific. The scent of hay, leather, and what I can only assume to be manure are surprisingly not an offensive combo, but it’s so distinct I know I’ll remember the scent for a while.

I’m twirling around trying to take everything in when I feel a strong set of hands grab my shoulders and straighten me out. I almost lose my balance, but those hands don’t leave me until I’m righted, and I turn to see Eric looking at me with what can only be described as pure annoyance on his face.

“Look where you’re going there, Red. You’ve almost run over three separate people in the last thirty seconds.”

“Sorry,” I mumble, trying to piece together where exactly that nickname came from. I’ve been used to him and Dean making California references all week. It takes until I glance down at my boots for me to realize he might be referencing their color…and do I swoon internally a little? Yeah. Yeah, I do. I’m not too proud to admit that.

“I just didn’t expect all of…this.” I punctuate the last word by waving my arms around, trying and failing to find words. I’m also a little thrown off by the fact that he manhandled me so easily, but that is something I’m not going to think too long on. That would be a dangerous path.

A slight, barely there, can hardly register smile appears on one corner of his mouth. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”