Better Than Any Ride

Chapter 9

The toughest sport on dirt. The toughest sport on dirt. What could it be? I mean there aren't that many sports that involve dirt, right? Right? I couldn't think of anything. Anything. I spent the whole ride thinking about what his job could be. I was so out of it that I hadn't even realized we had stopped and parked till Logan's hand waved in front of my face. "Hello? Claire, are you in there? I'd like to speak to you." "Huh? What?" I said as I finally realized he was talking to me. "I said we're here." "Oh. Okay." I said as I finally got out of the truck. "Where are we?" "Memphis." "Memphis! Are you you crazy dad is going to kill us." I screamed. "Nope." "Huh? What do you mean 'nope'?" "It's for my job." He said smiling. I looked at the scene around us and saw we were at a rodeo. A rodeo. Did he think this was joke? I am not a cowgirl. Not even close. "This is not your job. I can't believe I actually thought you would take this seriously." Then I looked up and saw the sign. The sign that said, "The toughest sport on dirt." "Oh my god." I whispered. "Welcome to the rodeo." He said as he patted my back and walked past me. I stood there in shock. Was he nuts? I took of sprinting after him. It was hard keeping up to him. It didn't help that I was having to dodge people left and right. "Okay, I am not going and sitting by the chutes." I said putting my foot down. "Then go sit in the stands." "Fine." I said as I started cursing under my breath. I turned around and started to head back towards the stands when I realized that the first night of the rodeo is always drawing what you ride. This is just great. I thought as I turned around, again. I stormed back towards Logan ready to beat his ass when he turned to face me. "You coming tonight?" "What?" "Are you coming tonight?" He said again, but slower as if I was dumb. "Where?" I said bored out of my mind. "The welcome bonfire." "Uh uh uh uh." I stuttered before I got a quiet 'sure' out. "Alright then. Meet me by the back chute. Till then, try not to get yourself killed." He said before he walked away. What to do now?  I tried thinking of something I could do but nothing really stood out so I went to the stands and watched a couple prepare themselves to open the gates. As soon as the gates opened a huge, black stallion came sprinting out. He had his head down with his short mane and long tail blowing in the wind. He took large strides, stretching his neck out as far as it could go. Almost as if he were reaching for something in the distance. His rider half stood, half sat in his saddle as he pushed forward. She leaned close to his head urging him on as they sped around the first barrel. As soon as they rounded it he was speeding towards the next one. He rounded the next barrel, hugging it a little tighter as he came around headed for the next barrel. As he rounded the last barrel you could see how he pushed forward off the ground and you could see the droplets of sweat running down his neck and legs. But most of all you could see a white heart on his forehead. He pushed even harder down the last stretch of land like it was a real competition and not practice. I could just see it in him. He loved to run. He loved to run barrels. I had always thought about asking my parents for a horse so I could compete, but I knew the answer would be no. Maybe someday I could race around the barrels like these girls did every weekend.
Maybe someday.