ROXANNE
I tookJameson for his usual walk, which is less than a quarter of a mile so he can sniff the same plant for five minutes, pee on it, then kick the ground with his back legs. I return him to the house, give him a good scratch, and then wait for Topper to pick up Allie, Leo, and I for what he called “somethin’ special.” Rusty and Georgia stay behind to continue to keep an eye on Garrett, who’s still waiting for his parents to come get him.
Allie instinctively hops in the cart and pulls Topper in for a good-morning kiss. I almost blush watching them, it’s like they’re an old married couple already. Leo loads his film equipment in the back, and Allie clutches her clipboard with the day’s production schedule attached. While Topper and Allie fall into their familiar flirt-a-thon in the front of the golf cart, Leo puts his arm around me in the back.
“Do you think Duke would come with you as an ambassador?”
I shrug. “He might if I work up the courage to ask him.
We drive past the horse paddock on our way to the arena. Beckett’s already out there with Goose, leading him in a slow,steady circle alongside one of the newer vets. Goose’s ears are flicked forward, alert but not tense, and I can’t help but feel a pinch of envy at how easily Beckett gets Goose to follow him. I watch for a second too long, chin resting on my hand. “I’m not leaving here until you walk with me,” I murmur to myself.
Topper makes a sharp turn onto the dirt road that leads to the arena, and the chatter in the front quiets as the structure comes into view. The round pen is bigger than I expected—wide and sunbaked with thick wooden fencing, some sections patched up with fresh boards that haven’t weathered to match yet.
A few folding chairs are arranged under a canvas shade tarp nearby where a small group of veterans is already gathered, sipping cold drinks and watching the activity inside the pen.
Inside the arena, Stedman stands at the ready in the outfit similar to what Duke paraded around in the first night at dinner. He looks like he’s stepped right out of a historic rodeo poster. Millie leans against the fence beside him, sunglasses on, her dark braided hair pulled back in a crisp bun. She waves when she sees us, then turns back to Stedman like she’s giving him last-minute notes before a performance.
“Hello, hello!” Millie says, when we enter the arena.
“Hi, Millie!” Allie says as she steps out of the golf cart. “Thanks for putting on this demo for us today.”
“Absolutely,” Millie says. “Stedman needs to practice for the next show anyway.”
“Okay, Leo, I want a couple wide establishing shots first, then we’ll get some close-ups once Stedman starts moving,” Allie says, instantly stepping into producer mode.
Leo nods and begins unpacking his camera gear.
“I’m excited to learn more about bulldogging,” I say.
Topper smiles. “You’re in for a treat. Stedman’s the ropin’ and doggin’ champion.”
“I know I’m going to see it in action, but do you mindexplaining what it is?” I ask, my pen at the ready hovering over the blank page of my notebook.
“I love how eager you are to learn about this,” Millie says with a smile. “To put a fine point on it … bulldogging is steer wrestling.”
“Steer …” I start to scratch out words. “… wrestling. Okay.”
When my face stays blank, she softens. “It’s when a rider jumps off a horse at full speed, grabs a steer by the horns, and wrestles it to the ground. It’s an act of power and precision. Not for the faint of heart.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Off … off the horse? Mid-run?”
Millie nods. “Oh, yes. You need timing like a Swiss watch and guts made of gravel. Most people see it and assume it’s about brute strength, but it’s more than that. You’ve got to read the steer’s momentum, anticipate its movement, and match it with your own. Think of it like dance. A violent, dirt-covered dance.”
“Sounds like a good way to break your everything,” I say.
“He did break his collarbone on one of his early runs,” Millie says.
“Oh?”
“Only made him stronger,” Millie says with a wink. “Let’s get into the bleachers to watch. He’s almost ready.”
“How is this structure here?” I ask. “This doesn’t seem like something that a movie star would build on his estate.”
“The Faradays had it built later so those of us who wanted to rodeo could practice things like this,” Millie replies.
Leo stays behind in the arena to film while Allie, Topper, Millie, and I take our seats.
Stedman waits beside the chute, sitting tall on a stocky bay horse that looks built for power, every muscle ready to spring. His back is straight, one gloved hand resting loose on the horn of his saddle, the other coiled around the reins.
