From Different Walks of Life

Cheyenne Frontier Days

The bright morning sun peeked through the blackout curtains in the hotel room, and he squinted against it, lifting his hand to cover his eyes.  So much sleeping in, he thought.  The jet lag from his overseas flight was doing him no favors anyway, he had been up for an hour already. He stepped to the window, drawing the curtain aside, and took a sip of the coffee room service had delivered moments before.  Cheyenne, Wyoming. Not a large city, by any means, and thus far he remained unimpressed.  Granted, he hadn't seen very much of the state of Wyoming when they had driven up from Denver the night before, but from what he could tell, there wasn't much to it.  First state to allow women to vote, first woman governor – that he could respect, but a  higher population of cattle than people?  Now that was a little hard to believe.

           A buzz on his phone interrupted his thoughts, so he picked it up, almost afraid to look.  Two new text messages, both from his agent.  The first reminding him of the arranged tour he had later this morning; the second not as pleasant.  Marvel's Loki Actor Leaves Long-Time Girlfriend in the Dust; Tom Hiddleston on the Run; English Hottie on the Single List Again.  Tom scowled, tossing his phone back on the bed.  He had no idea why Chris felt the need to send him copies of the latest magazine headlines – certainly not the kind of publicity he wanted.

He sighed loudly, the coffee tasting suddenly bitter, and sat down in one to of the recliners in the corner of the room.  It wasn't like it was a sudden break-up – he hadn't been serious at all.  She had taken it way too far, bragging to a few of her friends that his stay to film in Atlanta had been because of her.  Sure, he'd enjoyed her company for a little while, but eventually her constant whining and attempts to get the paparazzi to photograph them together became tiresome.  Tom's move back to L.A. had been a good decision, he felt, and the research offer for a potential film had now brought him to Wyoming for a short time.  Cheyenne Frontier Days.

"The Daddy of them All," He said to himself quietly as he looked at the brochure again.  He had probably read it thirty times over, memorized it even perhaps.  He had been offered a part in a modern western, and the director had insisted he attend to do 'research' on the part.  There had been hesitation, but Tom's agent went ahead and booked everything, making arrangements with the head director.  He knew he was coming in on the third official day of the festivities, and his first tour started that morning at eight, 'behind the chutes' – whatever that meant.

           A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts, and when he heard the key in the door, Tom rose, knowing it was his bodyguard.

           "Good morning," Jake Robbins' burly frame entered the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.  "You about ready?" 

           "Yeah," Tom nodded, slipping the pair of Roper shoes on that his assistant had purchased for him last week.  "Is it going to take that long to get there?"  Jake shrugged.

           "They're sending a car for us.  Time's set."

           "Very well." Tom slipped his sunglasses on, and pulled a baseball cap down low over his head.  He knew his tours were with the public, but mostly sponsors and some low-class celebrities.  Still, there was no reason to cause a ruckus, especially this early in the morning.  He and Jake both were sporting jeans, and hoodies, so he could only hope they would blend in enough that the morning would be pleasant.

           The tour had actually proven to be interesting – Frontier Days was quite the event, it turned out.  Tom was surprised at how many cowboys and cowgirls competed at the rodeos, and how much money was at stake while they competed.  It was still considered early as he, Jake, and their compatriots headed to the end of their tour, which was behind the rodeo chutes, and the stock pens.  Tom was half listening as the commissioner introduced everyone to that year's stock contractor – he was more interested in the many pens set up beyond the rodeo arena.  He had worked with horses a few times on movie sets, but only to ride, never to care for.  The smell was unique, as was that of the cattle he saw milling around the different pens.  There were several with horns that appeared to have headgear, which also looked interesting.  Curious, he put one foot up on the gate that hung nearest to him, raising himself up to see over the lane that separated the onlookers from the animal pens.