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TJ looked up at Matthew, met laughing brown eyes. ‘Watch yourself, Savage.’
Matthew grinned. ‘You worried she might choose me?’
‘No.’ TJ lowered his voice, so that only Matthew could hear him. ‘Look, she’s been through shit, man. Don’t box her in. If you want to shoot your shot, be my guest. She can handle herself. But be nice. And don’t corner her.’
Matthew’s eyes darkened – but not, TJ was surprised to see, with anger at being warned off, only concern. ‘I didn’t mean anything by it.’ He caught himself, shot TJ one last wink and said, ‘She is smoking hot, though.’
TJ couldn’t even be mad. He just sighed and ended the conversation with, ‘Agreed.’
Skye arrived with TJ’s parents an hour before his ride and joined the throngs of people moving en masse in and out of the Equidome.
Over the past few months, she’d mostly followed smaller barrel races, events where the stands were spotted with family members and riders waiting their turn to race and everyone was dressed in work-washed denim and scarred boots. The fanciest people at those races had been the racers themselves, some of whom chose sparkly shirts in bright colours or hats that matched their horses’ polo wraps and boots. The few rodeos she had been to had been in small towns where everyone knew everyone and came straight from work. Still, she had been expecting the dress code for a ticketed event to be closer to what she’d seen of the NFR on social media, so it was a shock for her to see more people dressed like her, in their faded denim and plaid shirts, than girls dressed to the nines.
For every girl dressed in a tiny skirt, dress, or jumpsuit, there were three cowgirls. The only commonality between all of them was the cowgirl boots on their feet, which seemed to come in every style and colour.
‘I was expecting it to be flashier,’ she said to Janey.
Janey, dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt tucked in at the waistband, explained, ‘The stadium rodeos are different. The NFR and the American are more of a fashion show than a rodeo these days, but I can’t begrudge that too much considering how much popularity – and funding – they’ve brought to the sport. But this one, we call, “The West’s Most Western Rodeo”. A lot of these folks are local.’
Skye’s Wrangler jeans and T-shirt, both of which she’d picked up at Tractor Supply ages ago, were faded from wear. Her Ariat boots were scuffed from everyday use. She fit right in.
‘I didn’t know that.’
‘We tend to like it that way. But everyone’s welcome so long as they’re respectful of what it is we do here.’ Janey leaned close. She nodded subtly towards a girl dressed in a microscopic skirt and tall, white cowgirl boots. The girl was beautiful – and the group of cowboys subtly nudging one another to point her out clearly thought so too.
‘Those are really nice boots,’ Skye commented. But as she watched the girl saunter off, she had the vague and disconcerting thought that she was probably closer to what TJ was used to – women who looked like that. Women who knew what the fuck they were doing.
Janey just laughed and gave Skye’s hand a quick squeeze. ‘Come on. Our seats are right up front.’
They picked their way through the blue plastic seats until they found theirs, which were right up against the rail. When Janey and Skye sat down, Ryan kept standing. ‘I’m gonna go see TJ before he rides.’
Janey smiled at him, and although she couldn’t decode the message that passed between them, Skye knew they communicated something. Ryan reached for Janey’s hand, kissed the back of it. Before he left, she said, ‘Pick up some beers on your way back.’
‘Yup.’
The moment he disappeared into the crowd, Janey leaned back in her chair. ‘He worries as much as I do. Sometimes, seeing TJ before a ride, seeing how relaxed and confident he is, helps.’
‘I can’t imagine,’ Skye said. And it was true. She’d only just met TJ, and knowing what he was about to do had a fist of anxiety lodged in her stomach. She couldn’t begin to conceptualize what it must be like to watch your child, someone you’d raised and nurtured, cling to the back of a bucking bull.
As they waited for the bull riding, which was the last event, Skye and Janey watched the rodeo. They talked easily, as if they’d known each other for years, and when Ryan came back, three beers triangulated in his hands, he passed them one each and then slotted into the conversation without pause. ‘TJ drew Cuddles.’
Janey sighed. ‘He’s a devil of a bull.’
‘I’m sorry, did you say Cuddles?’
Ryan grinned. ‘Yeah. Most of the time, the bulls are given the tough names. Things like Man Hater, Ridin’ Salty, and Buck Nasty.’ He listed off a few names that even Skye had heard of. ‘But the Morris Family like to have a laugh, so theirs are always named things like Cuddles and Fluffy.’
‘Remember that white Brahman-Hereford cross?’ Janey asked.
‘Marshmallow,’ Ryan supplied.
Skye watched in fascination as the rodeo progressed like a well-oiled machine. They’d missed the bronc riding and steer wrestling but got to watch the team ropers, tie-down ropers, and barrel racers. After every five barrel races, the dirt was dragged by three men on tractors, working together seamlessly. There were no pauses, no breaks in the schedule, just one event after another.
Skye slowly relaxed. She got into the spirit of things and clapped and cheered for the athletes. But just when she’d calmed enough to start enjoying herself, the announcer’s voice boomed, ‘All right folks, next up we have the bull riding. For those of you who aren’t familiar with the sport, it’s pretty simple: hold on for eight seconds, until the buzzer sounds! And if you’re from Scottsdale, we have our very own Jesse James Jones competing tonight. You heard me: Triple J himself, Scottsdale’s four-million-dollar bull rider and PBR World Finals qualifier, is here. And he is ready to give y’all a show!’
The crowd roared.
Janey raised two fingers to her mouth and released a shrill whistle that had Skye jumping in her seat.
