The Ranch

“This macho shit is going to kill me,” she said to Hartley as they watched one young bull rider nearly get killed when the bull dropped him unexpectedly and then stomped on what must have been his kidneys. They called an ambulance for him, but he still crawled out of the ring, nearly on hands and knees, with some assistance. And the audience cheered him. “This is a lot worse than what I do,” Tanya said, and Hartley and Mary Stuart laughed. And a little while later, she went back to the bronc pens to check on Gordon.

“Are you okay?” she asked with worried eyes when she got there. She had given Mary Stuart back her hat, because she didn't want to get it dirty, or lose it if someone grabbed it from her. That happened to her sometimes. People snatched articles of clothing from her and ran off with them as souvenirs. It was really annoying, and always scared her a little. “How's your arm?” she asked him quickly, and he smiled at her concern. She could see that his hand was swollen, but he had put ice on it and claimed he didn't feel it.

“You're lying, you big fool. If I shook your hand right now, or held it, you'd probably hit me.”

“No, but I might cry a little bit,” he teased, and she laughed at him in spite of herself.

“You people are nuts,” she scolded him. “How's the guy who got stomped by the bull?”

“He's okay. He didn't want to go to the hospital. He's pretty tough. He'll be peeing blood for a week, but he's used to it.”

“If you keep doing this, I'm going to kill you,” she said fiercely. “It's bad for my nerves.”

“You're good for my nerves,” he said, moving closer to her, and she could smell his aftershave mixed with the smell of horses. He noticed a couple of people watching her then, and turned so he would block her from their line of vision. It was Saturday, and there were more people here tonight, and a lot of them were drinking. “I want you to be careful when you leave, Tan. You hear?”

“Yes, sir,” she said, and saluted. She wasn't worried. She liked to think she was invisible, or that she wouldn't be recognized if she didn't want to be and wouldn't make eye contact with them, but he knew better.

“People know you're here, Tan. Tell Hartley to get the cops to help you out. It's Saturday, and a lot of people are drunk out there.”

“I'll be fine,” she reassured him. “I'll see you later.” She touched his cheek then and disappeared, and he watched her for the rest of the rodeo, sitting in the bleachers. He didn't see her leave, because he was talking to some of the other men. They were talking about a cowboy who'd been disqualified from the saddle broncs, and offered a reride but refused it. The politics of cowboys.