Merciless

The seats in the Pennington County Events Center weren’t even half full. A horse trailer display took up a good chunk of the entryway. We skirted the high-end rigs and paused between the concessions and the ramp leading to the stands.

People milled about. Friends greeted one another with handshakes and heartfelt slaps on the back. Cowboys and cowgirls of all ages stood in groups, drinking beer and laughing. Kids dressed in jeans, boots, and hats raced by at full throttle. The loudspeaker boomed with announcements. A 4-H Club sold raffle tickets for a quilt. A small western tack store, pegboard walls laden with ropes of every color, material, and length had cropped up between a real estate broker’s table and a FFA booth.

Despite the number of years that’d passed since I’d been around rodeo culture, nothing had changed. An odd sense of comfort filled me, and I felt silly for it. I’d merely been an observer in this world-a role that was the norm for me.

Dawson stopped in front of a corridor of metal fencing that led to the area marked for contestants. “I’ll see you guys later.”

“But… why can’t I come back and help pull your rope?” Lex asked.

The kid had studied up on bull riding, I’d give him that much.

“Thanks for the offer, son, but they’re pretty strict about who goes behind the chutes. I’ll meet you at the contestant’s gate as soon as I’m finished, okay?”

“Okay.”

Dawson sidestepped his son and loomed over me. “Need money for snacks? The kid eats like a horse.”

“Nah, I’ve got it covered.” I stood on tiptoe and pressed my mouth to his. “Promise me you’ll be careful, old man.”

“I will.” He draped his equipment bag over his shoulder and headed to the back of the arena.

Neither Lex nor I moved until Dawson was out of sight.

“What you hungry for first? Popcorn or nachos?”

“Nachos.”

After we loaded up on junk food, we found seats in the middle section and settled in to watch the show.

This was a charity event put on by the South Dakota Sheriffs Association, but rodeo standards never changed. A young girl belted out “The Star Spangled Banner,” and all the men and women in the place removed their hats without being reminded. That was followed by recognition of all the veterans in the arena. We were asked to remain standing while the crowd gave us a resounding round of applause for our service to this country. On the outside, I might’ve looked like a stoic combat survivor, but on the inside, I wept for what war had taken from all of us and felt immeasurable pride that my years of service meant something. Having these strangers acknowledge our collective dedication always moved me; it never seemed staged, just sincere. And these days, no one did a double take at seeing a woman standing with the men.

Lex started shoveling in nachos, but that didn’t keep him from talking with a mouthful of food. “I’m gonna join the marines when I get outta school, just like my dad did.”

I shot him a glance. Last week the kid wanted to be a cop. This week he wanted to be a soldier. Next week he’d probably want to be a bull rider. I tried to remember if I’d changed my mind about my future occupation every week when I was his age. Had I ever dreamed of following in my father’s footsteps? Maybe. But the one thing that’d stayed constant was the resolve that my career would involve guns.

“Why does the guy ridin’ saddle bronc have that thing behind his head?” Lex asked, with a cheese-covered chip pointing at the rider. “If they’re worried he’s gonna hurt the horse, then how come they make the riders wear spurs?”

“It’s rider safety gear, and it’s meant to protect the rider’s neck and head from injury, not the horse. And the spurs they wear are designed not to cut into a horse or a bull.”

“Oh.” Crunch-crunch. “Did you ever do rodeo stuff?”

“Nope. Only in the stands as a fan.”

Lex finished the nachos, a big bag of popcorn, a large Diet Dr Pepper, and a package of licorice. He left to go to the bathroom twice, which entitled me to tease him upon his return. “Are there cute cowgirls by the concession area?”

He scowled. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because you’ve been popping up and down like a jack-in-the-box.”

Another scowl. “Anyone you know from school here tonight?”

“No. Jeez, why are you acting like you care? My dad’s not here.”

Ouch. I hadn’t wanted to horn in on Dawson’s time with his son, so I’d hung back, which evidently made the kid think I didn’t like him. I needed to change that, but I wasn’t sure how to do it.

We watched the calf roping. And the team roping. When the bull-dogging started, Lex stood. “I’m thirsty. Can I have money for pop?”

I shook my head. “There’s a drinking fountain by the bathrooms.”

“But my dad-”

“Said nothing about allowing you to drink unlimited quantities of caffeine. He’d say no, and you know it. Take your cup and get some water if you’re so thirsty.” I looked at him. “And think about the fact you’re only nice to me when you want something.”

Lex’s cheeks colored. He snatched up the cup and stomped off.