The Cowboy's Promise (UNDER HEAVY REVISION)

Feels Good To Be Home

"Pull!"

My hands shake, eyes closed, as I toy with the ends of the reins. Grenade stomps his foot impatiently, and I run a hand down his mane to quiet him. Sam opens the chute at my call, releasing a small red steer. Grenade rears up briefly, champing at the bit, before I tap my heels and he shoots forward. Once he and the steer are even, I shove myself out of the saddle and make a grab for the horns.

My hands, slick with sweat, slip and I hit the ground with a thud. Rolling over on my back, I hit the dry dust with my fist.

"Shut up," I mutter to Grenade as I sit up, seeing him eyeing me. My brother Red brings him to me and helps me up. We trot back to the chute, where Sam readies another steer.

This time we have better results. When my horse and the steer are side by side, I dive off Grenade and onto to the cow. Taking it by the horns, I wrestle it to the ground. Once it's down, I lay panting on its neck a moment before releasing it.

"8.6," my baby brother, Elliot, calls out. I nod, satisfied.

"Not bad considering you ain't practiced in three weeks," Red joins in.

"I'd like to see you win a buckle for this," I shoot back playfully.

I look over at the fence. Elliot and his twin, Faith, sit on the top rails side by side. Red leans against the boards, one worn leather boot resting on the bottom rail. My gelding stands passively on the other end of the arena, his head down and eyes closed. He opens them and faces me as I slowly lift myself out of the dirt. Sam jumps into the pen to chase the calf out, swinging his rope lazily. My vision is still blurry, and I blink a few times to return it to normal. Elliot mouths You okay? to me, and I give him a thumbs up. All three of my siblings share a look, seeming to sense something is off, but they try to ignore it. Red and Faith are just happy to finally have their brothers home again. Elliot and I just got home after following the rodeo circuit for four years.

"How'd you put up with him all those years, Elliot?" Red asks our younger brother.

"Easy, ya smack him upside the head when he gets too annoying. Besides, somebody in this family has to put up with him," Elliot answers with a smirk. He dodges my hand when I move to slap him, a move that causes him to almost fall off the fence.

"Ha ha. Very funny," I deadpan. "Someone's also gotta put up with your snoring and lame jokes."

"Excuse you! My jokes are hilarious!" El says in an indignant tone, receiving a snort from the three of us.

"Don't even go there," Faith argues at the same time, holding up both hands, "You didn't share a bed with him for eight years."

"And thank God for that," Red agrees, holding up an imaginary beer. I laugh.

"Feelin' the love, guys," our brother mutters, only making us laugh harder. If you and your siblings don't give each other hell after being separated, then are you really siblings?

Elliot hops off the fence and joins me in the corral on Footloose, his buckskin paint mare, passing me my rope. Sam readies another steer as we settle in the alley. Footloose, always the troublemaker, tosses her head and rises on her hind legs. I chuckle, earning a glare from my baby brother as he forces the mare down.

She finally quiets, and Sam releases the calf. Footloose is out first, Elliot's green lariat twirling above them, Grenade and myself a second behind. My vision is slightly blurry again, but I only blink and shake it off. Elliot catches the calf around the neck. Now it's my turn. My sight's only blurred more. I can barely see. My hands slowly stop twirling my lariat; Grenade's hoofbeats echo in my ears. The scene turns darker and darker until all I see is black, and I hit the dirt.