8 Seconds Going On Forever

Chapter 1 - Before the Night Begins

Virgil O'Dell sat on the chipped fence with his boots propped up on the rung and his hands on the top to balance himself. Around him the commotion of trailers arriving, horses being unloaded, and people getting registered were lost to him. Instead he trained his eyes on what was in the arena, roaming around in the soft dirt. The very thing that would determine how the rest of his night went.

One massive red bull looked up from whatever had caught it's nose and up at him. Virgil's eyes trailed to its hindquarters searching for the brand that would show who owned the bull. An all too familiar brand consisting of a connected B and C made him cringe and look away. Virgil didn't even have to read the roster of bulls to know this ones name, Poison Apple, one of many bulls on the circuit that came from Black Creek Ranch. The bull turned away and joined the herd on the other side of the arena, seemingly bored by the restless cowboy on the fence.

With one last look, Virgil swung his black and purple boots over the fence and into the dirt outside of the arena. He still had plenty of time before the show tonight but he wanted to spend it on a ride not by the stands where the thousands of people would soon pour in, boots and hats would fill the stands, eager to see cowboys and cowgirls competing for points and buckles. No Virgil wanted to be in front of those crowds as less as possible.

As he neared the trailer, Bucephalus, his prized black gelding began whinnying.

"Shhhh, Buce," Virgil muttered as he patted the horse's soft nose. "You ready to go, Buddy?" Bucephalus gave a loud neigh that made him laugh. The horse was always ready to go and he loved to run. Virgil placed the purple saddle blanket squarely on his back before hefting the black leather saddle up. In under five minutes, Virgil had the saddle tightened and the bit in Bucephalus's mouth.

Virgil led him down the path, avoiding the trucks and trailers pulling in last minute and the many other horses of varying breeds. Once they were past all of the people and on the edge of the trail they stopped and Virgil threw the reins over his head. He then placed his left foot in the stirrup and lifted himself up and over the horse's back. He rocked back and forth, getting the saddle just right so he was even on the center of Buce's back. He leaned down closer to Bucephalus's neck, his belt buckle digging into his stomach as they raced under the leafy trees, running out the nerves and preparing for another dangerous night.

Back at the grounds tucked away in the back corner was a horse trailer camper, owned by the one and only Sanders Circuit Rodeo Queen. Roman King leaned into the mirror as he traced his eye, trying to match the wing of his other eye. Already he was in his show attire, a white shirt complete with jewels and fringe on the chest, his jeans with their heavy bejeweled pockets, his red leather boots, and his custom fringed red, white and gold chaps with his family logo of a castle on a shield. Now if only his makeup would look as perfect as his outfit. Instead he was attempting a second wing for the fourth time.

He leaned in so close that he was almost touching the mirror as he concentrated intently on the thin black line. Finally satisfied that the wing matched the others he placed the pencil back into his makeup toolbox and closed it with a firm click. Then he stood up and crossed the room to grab his hat, a beautiful red cowboy hat with the rodeo circuit crown around the top, marking him as the Rodeo Queen.

After one more glance in the mirror he deemed himself ready and left the living quarters of the trailer.

"Wake up sleepy," he called softly to his mare, a beautiful American Paint Horse. "It's time for your routine." She looked up at him but then lazily set her head back down, making Roman laugh. She sure loved her beauty sleep.

Roman grabbed the rose decorated leather tack and began getting her ready. He took extra time making sure she was looking her best and ready to go because they were the first in the arena.Once she was tacked up he mounted and headed for the announcer's stand where the flag would be kept, rolled up and ready to be carried around the arena by Roman, just one of his many queenly duties.

Roman stared at the crowd as he trotted by. There was always an interesting crowd at rodeos. There were the fake cowboys just looking to find a pretty cowgirl, girls that have no clue what to actually wear to a rodeo so they dress up some even wearing heels, the veterans who are at a rodeo every Friday night, and of course the kids. They were running in and under the stands, waving flashing toys sold by the one booth by the entrance. He took a deep breath as he prepared for another long night filled with dirt, sweat, blood, and raging crowds.