Breene, K F - Jessica Brodie Diaries 01 by Back in the Saddle (v5.0) Page B

wasn’t all that into this “sport.” I
decided to get a beer and look at smelly animals. Or smelly people. Or maybe
even ride the Ferris Wheel. Anything but watch the poor calves chased around
and tied up.
    JP interrupted my attempt at
standing.
    “What’s up JP?”
    “Just thought I’d come and explain
things about this event so you get the full gist of it.”
    “Oh. Well that’s okay. I’m not a
big history buff. I hear the beer stand calling my name.”
    “Just give me a second now.”
    The next cowboy caught up with the
calf, threw the rope, and only caught one leg this time. Apparently that was
bad news, since the crowd made a disapproving groan. I thought getting both
feet caught up was bad. The calf now had one leg pulled up at an awkward angle
and was trying to scurry away on its remaining three limbs.
    “On the ranch,” JP was saying.
“Cows and calves wander the fields with very little restriction. They have some
fences here and there to keep them on the property, but many ranches are so big
that the animals don’t see those fences often. When it is time for branding--”
    I flinched. What’s worse than being
hamstrung by a dude and a horse? Having your flesh burned off by hot iron,
that’s what.
    “Yeah, branding sucks.” Apparently
JP noticed my flinch. “But it isn’t so much worse than a tattoo. And cows have
tougher hides than humans...”
    “JP, it is beer-thirty, and you’re
in my way.”
    “Okay, okay. Just listen. When a
calf needs medicine or is hurt or something, they need to round it up and get
it back to where it can get treatment, right? Well, they aren’t dogs; they
don’t come when you call them. So the cowboys gotta go out on the ranch and get
‘em like you see here. They run like hell when you try to catch them, so you
gotta rope ‘em, tie ‘em up, and doctor ‘em. It looks worse than it is.”
    “It does? Really? When were you
running full steam away from someone that caught your feet with a rope and
pulled?”
    JP gave me a disapproving scowl.
“No, it really isn’t as bad as all that.”
    I smiled to ease the tension,
nodded, and said, “Probably not. But it is just a little much right out of the
gate for this non-country girl. My sport is drinking at present, and I would
like to get back to that.”
    JP sighed and gave the “o-lay”
gesture. Get on your way, little doggie.
    Handle-Bar was probably relieved.
    After I had a brew in hand, I
wandered through the livestock area and saw the prize animals. I couldn't
focus, though. Discolored hay and poop was all my brain registered.
    Poop. Ew.
    God boomed from the heavens that
Team Roping would begin soon. Oh good, one cowboy on a horse wasn’t enough, the
poor calf needed to get double-teamed.
    On the way to the Ferris Wheel, I
noticed a small crowd forming in the bull area. Hoping some sort of action was
afoot, I headed that way. Unfortunately, when I got there, nothing was
happening. Just a bunch of guys looking at the monsters.
    As I looked around for the second
time, I overhead two cowboys talking about one of bulls. The older one was
complimenting the younger one on a great draw. Intrigued, which is a nice way
of saying confused, I stepped up to the bull in question.
    Its large head slowly swayed in my
direction. As if in comment to its audience, it gave a loud grunt. It sounded
like a dragon! I immediately backed up. It had me locked in a stare off with a
slightly lowered head. I did not wish to die today.
    “The smaller ones aren’t always
easier, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
    My insides felt like champagne
popping a cork.
    It was said right behind me, from
someone obviously experienced in ninja warfare, because I’d thought the only
people near were the ones I was eavesdropping on!
    Jumping with the scare, I must have
cleared the ground and convulsed at the same time, but the thing that had
people looking my way was my high-pitched scream.
    The rest of my beer—that which
wasn’t all over