here for a reason, for fun or escape or just diversion, and I want your photos to make it exactly clear to the reader what it offers them.”
I almost ask him if he’d also like me to lasso the moon while I’m at it, but I don’t. I just nod again.
“I grew up around this kind of thing,” I say. “I’ve got a pretty good idea of what I’m looking for. Tonight’s all about the spectacle of rodeo. Rhinestones, glitter, big American flags, all that. It’s also about figuring out lenses and shutter speeds.”
“Perfect,” he says, and stands. “I think this is going to turn out beautifully.”
We walk to the arena, chatting about our plans in bursts and snippets.
But inside, I think I’m about ready to explode with a combination of pride and nervousness.
This is my big break, my one shot, and I’m going to nail it.
6
Jackson
R aylan hands me the flask back, and I swish it from side to side, frowning at him.
“You’re gonna drink me out of house and home,” I tell him, tilting the flask up. I take the last swallow of whiskey and let it settle in my belly before I put the flask back in my pocket.
“What, out of that trailer in your momma’s back yard?” he asks.
“Don’t knock it,” I say.
Raylan and I have been traveling from rodeo to rodeo together for a couple years now, ever since Buck left. He probably knows more about me than anyone alive except maybe my mother. Hell, we even slept in the same bed more often than not for a while since it was all we could afford.
“When you’re a big star you ought to buy your own double-wide,” he says, still grinning. “Maybe get a house that don’t feel like it’s gonna fall over in a high wind.”
We’re leaning up against the barrier, and in the arena in front of us is a whole team of eight-year-olds, riding small horses around, fully decked out in their cowboy best as the announcer tells us all their names. Apparently these kids have won some kind of civic award from school, and their reward is riding a horse around in front of all these cheering people.
There’s a country song playing loud, there’s horses and cowboys and even a couple cowgirls, and out of the blue it gets me, just like it does every time.
It’s the feeling that I’m home now. That I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, doing what I’m supposed to do.
The music is cheesy and the announcer isn’t really funny, but I remember the first time I rode in a rodeo. I was even younger than these kids, sheep riding at the Converse County Fair back home in Wyoming.
I barely remember my first kiss, but that first ride is crystal clear, even now. Clutching the wool on the back of some old, cranky ewe. The gate opening and the sheep jogging out, me clinging to its back for all I was worth. The sheep never got above a trot, and I only lasted four seconds before I fell off anyway, but even at that tender age I was hooked.
Rodeo’s all I’ve ever wanted to do since. There just ain’t nothin’ else like it.
The kids on horses exit. The announcer talks for a minute about one of the sponsors, Ford trucks, and then the rodeo queen comes out, a smiling blond eighteen-year-old in full cowgirl regalia, rhinestone hat included.
She takes a circuit, followed by all the girls who wanted to be queen but lost, sitting proud on their big horses.
It goes on like that, people entering and exiting, girl scouts and boy scouts and the high school rodeo team, all that small-town America stuff that I grew up with and still love. I’m a country boy at heart. I like horses and big trucks and pretty girls and the smell of dirt. I can’t help it.
Speaking of pretty girls, I’ve been scanning for Mae but I haven’t seen her yet. I thought she’d be here somewhere, but maybe she decided to skip this and get a good night’s sleep. There’s no real sports happening right now, just the showy stuff.
Then Raylan nudges me and cocks his head at the announcer’s platform, on metal legs about
Learning to Kill: Stories