Mayfly Melodies

Twenty-One

Noah

It's guts and glory, one mortal's chance at fame. His legacy is rodeo. And cowboy is his name—Baxter Black

His blood was pounding in his ears. His throat felt dry. There was a nerve jumping in his jaw and an itch that wouldn't go away on his leg.

The atmosphere in the arena was almost intoxicating. The roar of the crowd, the palpable entity that was their excitement, coursed through him, lighting a fire in the pit of his stomach. From the side gate, he watched as a pair of men began their run. This event was a two-steer average, meaning that they had to catch two steers in two consecutive rounds while having their time be consecutively faster than any of the other competitors in the competition.

Noah and Ethan had finished their first and second runs. They'd been the last team to enter in the competition, unsurprisingly since they'd decided on entering only an hour earlier, meaning that they were the last team to compete.

As he'd looked around at the other riders, Noah had realized that he knew most of them. At the very least, he'd heard their names. While his focus had always been primarily on the bulls, he and Ethan had dabbled in Team Roping events often enough for people to recognize them but not frequently enough for them to think of the pair as threats.

That, in Noah's eyes, was a mistake. While it had been a year since the pair had ridden together in any form of competition, they'd grown up side-by-side. The trust they'd established with one another, which projected with the ease in which they could communicate without talking, was still rooted in the foundation of their friendship. Even the time apart couldn't erase nearly a quarter century of knowing someone so deeply that they were closer to family than they were a friend.

As he and Ethan had urged their horses into the three-walled pen before the first round, Noah's eyes had flicked unconsciously towards the stands. He saw Bailey's family — they were sitting above the sign advertising Ball Park Franks hotdogs — but Bailey was absent. He'd just begun to wonder where she'd disappeared off to, since she had been going looking for her family when he'd last seen her, when she'd walked in.

He'd almost missed her. She'd removed her plaid shirt, leaving her in only a black tank-top and jeans. What was more, she'd tightened her trademark strawberry blonde curls into a braid that fell down her back. Her cowboy hat had mysteriously disappeared and in its place was a baseball cap with some writing on it that he'd been unable to read from his position on the other side of the arena.

Noah had watched as she'd walked over to the side of the gate and hopped up onto the lower rung next to a group of older men with gruff grey and white beards and beady little eyes. One of them had said something to her in a quiet aside and he'd watched as she'd thrown her head back and laughed. Then, when her eyes had met his, she had raised her hand in a slight wave and beamed at him.

"You ready?" Ethan had asked from atop his big red roan, cleverly named Tabasco. Noah wasn't entirely sure why he'd brought the horse along to the rodeo to begin with. He hadn't entered any other roping events which would have warranted it. Either Ethan was preparing to follow the circuit to another rodeo the following weekend where he needed the roan, or he'd seen Noah's name on the competitor list online and had hoped that he would be willing to enter the team roping event.

Noah didn't know but he found that he was happy at the prospect to ride with Ethan once more. Their pens were separated only by the metal chute that housed the steer they were supposed to rope. Ethan had followed Noah's gaze over to where Bailey was perched and he'd turned to Noah with a question written in his eyes.

"I've never been more prepared," Noah had answered with an easy grin.

They'd decided that Noah would be the header and Ethan the heeler. It meant that Noah would be responsible for roping the front half the steer. His job was to get his lasso around the steer's horns or neck. The moment his rope had secured the animal, he'd have to wrap it around his rubber covered saddle horn and turn to the left. Then, Ethan would have his chance to rope the steer's back two legs. Once he'd gotten the animal roped, the clock would stop and their time would be recorded.